


Through Your Eyes

by Regen



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description, Mention/discussion of rape, Minor Character Death, Smut, Soulmate AU, Violence, this thing will have a bit of everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 45
Words: 179,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regen/pseuds/Regen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age 2 soulmate AU. In Thedas, each person's soul is inexplicably linked to another. Some spirits in the Fade help connect soul mates to each other through dreams, but the process isn't perfect. Only one person gets to see the other; their dreams are of what their other has experienced that day. The other is left in the dark. </p><p>Relm Hawke is one of those dreamers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy in the Courtyard

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into AU territory, and as cliche as it is, I'm a sucker for soulmate tropes. Might turn this into a multi-chaptered fic, depending on feedback. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> This takes place before the timeline of Dragon Age 2, so babby!Hawke ahoy. Also, as a warning, the last part of this fic deals with Fenris getting his lyrium markings, so it's a bit graphic and all together awful. Not sure if it warrants the archive warning, but I figure better safe than sorry.

Her father used to whisper to her stories about soul mates, a person’s other half. Leandra never liked it when Malcolm told her the tales. “Don’t put such imaginings in her head,” she’d say.

Relm hated it when she said that, but her father always just shook his head and let it go. “That’s just how she is,” he’d tell her. “I’ll tell you a story later.” The rest went unspoken: _when your mother isn’t around._

But even from a young age, she was always told one thing: there was no guarantee you’d ever find your mate. The Maker, Andraste or whoever deigned such fates never made it so mates would always wind up together. More often than not, it seemed to be the other way around. That was why she loved the stories Malcolm told: because despite the odds, the two mates always found each other in the end, and nothing could tear them apart after that. 

One night, she asked him, “Will I ever find mine, Father?” Barely eight years old, but already she wondered if she would be so lucky.

Malcolm smiled sadly. “Hard to say, little one. No one knows for certain. But if the spirits are kind, you will see bits of your mate’s life in your sleep. Perhaps someday that will lead you to them.”

“But if I see them, then they won’t dream about me, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Only one mate dreams. The other remains oblivious. It’s both a blessing and a burden for the dreamer. Time will tell which one you will be.”

It took nearly nine months before the first dream came to her.

Exhausted from a day of learning magic, she stumbled into her little bed and fell asleep rather quickly, well before Malcolm had a chance to tell her any stories.

That night she dreamed of a vast courtyard made of stone: gray and white and worn from centuries of exposure to the elements. She was running around, chasing after a small elven girl with bright red hair. Someone called out to her; it was not her name that was shouted. And yet, it sounded familiar, and it _felt_ like her name.

An elven woman worked in the courtyard just feet away, tending to the plants that decorated the space. Occasionally Relm would glance over at her, watching for a smile. _Mother._ But no, that wasn’t _her_ mother…

The sun beat down harshly on her back, but she barely paid it any mind. The wind whipped through her hair as she gave chase, the little elven girl giggling as she sprinted away. A cool breeze drifted in, bringing an exotic smell with it from somewhere far off. Her stomach rumbled. She came to a halt, hands braced against her knees as she bent over to catch her breath.

Suddenly a harsh voice cut through the air. Her back stiffened; fear clogged her throat. She whipped around towards her mother, waiting for her to-

Relm woke with a start. Messy dark brown hair hung in her face, mussed from her sleep and vivid dreaming.

An odd dream, to be sure. Most of her dreams were twists on her ideas and fears. This one felt more real, like one of her own memories. She tried to remember the name that she was called; it definitely wasn’t Relm. The more she thought about it though, the further from her grasp it slipped. Eventually she gave up with a huff, writing it off as a lost cause.

It never occurred to her what that dream might have been, nor what it meant, so she said nothing about it. Not until weeks later, after she had two more similar dreams.

The morning after the third dream left her feeling more puzzled, despite what she had learned. For one thing, in those dreams she was definitely a boy. She’d heard “herself” speak in the dreams, and while she couldn’t quite remember the voice, she did remember referring to herself as a boy. Secondly, this boy did not live in Ferelden. It was too warm, and the plants, people, and places were entirely unfamiliar and looked nothing like home.

The dreams disconcerted her, and yet she looked forward to seeing the next one, to learn more about the boy she saw in them.

And that’s when it dawned on her.

Little Hawke hopped off her bed and took off to find her father, hoping her mother wasn’t around. She’d disapprove of this development and would likely try to convince her it was just her imagination. But she _knew_ what it was. Her young soul resonated with the truth, and nothing would sway her.

She found him out behind their house, chopping firewood. Glancing around to make sure they were alone, she ran up to him, eyes wide. “Father!”

Malcolm glanced up, axe gripped tightly in his hands. “Something the matter, Relm?”

She shook her head. “You’re not gonna believe this!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think I’ve been dreaming about my soul mate.”

He tilted his head curiously. “What makes you think that?”

She told him everything she saw in her dreams, babbling excitedly and stumbling over her words. She described the boy whose eyes she saw through – at least what little she knew about him – and the world around him. Relm was rarely the excitable sort, but she couldn’t help but hope and wish that what she dreamed about was what she thought it was. Then it'd be just like the stories her father told her about. When she finished, she took a deep breath, bracing herself.

Malcolm swung his axe into the chopping block. Leaving it stuck in there, he bent down in front of Relm, his expression unreadable. “You are sure about all of this?”

She nodded.

“Then it seems you are right.” His brow furrowed, although not in anger, to Relm’s relief. “I didn’t think someone could start dreaming about a mate at so young an age.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

He considered it for a moment. “I do not think so. Perhaps it does happen, and I may be wrong. I’m no expert.” He put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “Are you all right? I know they can be a little unnerving in the beginning.”

“Yeah, I’m-” She stopped, his words hinting at something she never thought of before. “Wait. Father, have you dreamed about your mate?”

Malcolm smirked, suppressing a chuckle. “Not even nine and already nothing gets by you. You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with when you’re older.” He reached up and tenderly brushed some of the hair away from her face. “But yes, I did. I haven’t in many years, though.”

“Why?”

“Because I met her. Once you meet your mate, the dreams stop. That’s the only hint you get in figuring out who they are.”

Relm jerked her head, looking over her shoulder towards the house. She looked back at her father. “Is it…?”

He smiled sadly.

 

* * *

 

The boy became a source of comfort in a life on the run. When she never knew what tomorrow might bring, when she feared templars coming to her home and taking her and Bethany away, he was a constant in an otherwise chaotic life. Every two weeks or so she’d step into his shoes (or his feet, as she learned he never wore shoes) and see his life for a night.

Despite the frequency of the dreams, she knew very little that might help determine his identity and location. The important details escaped her in the morning, and it was only by chance that she managed to cling onto the few she had managed to glean over the years.

He was an elf. That much was certain. His lack of footwear and the occasional barb of “knife-ear” she would hear in her dreams pointed to that. He also appeared to be a servant of some kind. Often she heard biting orders snapped at him to clean up something or other. His mother and sister were as well. More than once she watched as he ran to protect them from a blow by their employer, who was angered or displeased with something they had or hadn’t done. Each strike he took in their stead she felt, and occasionally she found herself in tears when she woke up.

It gave her perspective on her own situation. Sure, living in fear of the templars and Chantry was not an ideal life, but at least her parents never struck her. She was free, and not a servant in some rich asshole’s manor. Often she fantasized about finding her mate and helping him escape from his employer, taking his mother and sister along as well and bringing them back to her family. Something that her mother would be less than thrilled about, but at least her father would understand.

But it would only remain a fantasy, as she still had no idea where he lived. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it wasn’t Ferelden. Her knowledge of the other lands in Thedas was limited, so theoretically he could have been anywhere. She suspected it may have been further north, given how warm it seemed to be.

All she really wanted at the time, though, was a name. Just so she had something to call him besides “the boy” or her mate. She heard it often enough in her dreams, but it always slipped from her mind the next morning. It frustrated her beyond words. It would be on the tip of her tongue, but she could never recall it, no matter how long she thought on it.

Bethany noticed one day and asked her about it. “You look mad, Sister.”

“Can’t think of his name,” Relm said, staring hard at the wall. “Why can I never remember it?”

Her little sister shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the spirits don’t want you to know it.”

“Then why show us the dreams at all? What’s the point?” Relm rubbed her hands over her face, letting out a dramatic groan. “Teasing us and dangling them in front of us like little bits of meat and seeing if the hungry dog will leap up to eat them.”

“I hope if I’m the dreamer, I don’t have that problem.”

 _You likely will_ , Relm thought, but kept it to herself. Father had told her he had the same issue when he dreamed. Still, she never had the heart to hit Bethany with her negativity. Her sister would find out on her own, in time.

Carver was of a mind with their mother on the whole matter. He thought the whole premise ridiculous, and that listening to _anything_ the spirits showed you seemed like an awful idea. He often told Relm this, in that annoying yet still endearing manner only Carver could pull off.

And yet, sometimes, when they were alone, he’d ask her about her dreams, when he was sure their mother wasn't around.

“What’s he like?”

Relm snorted. “Why do you care?”

“You’re the one always going on about it with Father and Bethany.” He glowered at nothing in particular, and Relm suspected she knew what this was really about. “If you don’t want to tell me, then-”

Relm huffed, cutting him off. “He’s… good. Wary, but kind. Loves his mother and sister a lot.”

Carver raised a brow. “And his father?”

“Don’t know. He’s never showed up in any of the dreams, and I don’t remember them talking about him. I… don’t think he’s around.”

“Huh.”

And that’s how those rare conversations played out. Short but inquisitive, and telling. For all Carver’s doubt, a part of him believed. Or perhaps he simply wanted something to share with his sisters and father, as he lacked the magic they had.

Up until her eighteenth year, the dreams were peaceful, for the most part. Aside from the occasional beating and the hardships that came with being a servant (and an elf at that), she rarely saw anything that disturbed her too much. A feeling of urgency and discord accompanied the dreams as the years went on, and she got the feeling her mate was planning to do something about his situation.

A month after her birthday, Relm found out what it was.

There was a contest of arms. Someone wanted to test the participants’ mettle for… something. And the prize was whatever the winner wished. That night, she witnessed her mate square off against many other opponents, most of whom were bigger than him. Yet he fought with untold tenacity, managing to best them, even if his style was sloppy and reckless.

Many battles later, a single man stood up and applauded. Her mate’s eyes fell on him. A wide grin spread over the man’s face as he continued to clap. He cheered, professing his admiration for her mate’s abilities. He deemed him the winner, and asked for his boon.

_“Freedom for my mother and sister. That is all. I will do whatever you wish of me after that.”_

Something did not feel right to Relm. Something about the man terrified her, and she wished to scream and tell her mate to run. And she was confused on top of it. Why did his family need freedom? Could servants not just leave? They were not _bound_ to stay…

Relm woke up feeling uneasy. The dream bothered her in more ways than one.

“I think whatever he just got himself into is bad,” she told her father in private later that day as he oversaw her practicing fire mines. “Usually I just feel what he feels, like I _am_ him. I felt more detached last night, in vein of a spectator, and I wanted to drag him by the ears out of there.” She sighed. “Good intentions lead to the worst decisions. And I think he made a terrible decision.”

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” Malcolm leaned against his staff. “I hope he will not regret whatever he’s about to face. You do not remember what he was pledging himself to do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think _he_ entirely knew. Some sort of new idea this man wanted to test. The details were wonderfully vague.” Her brow furrowed as she recalled something else. “Something to do with magic or… some such. Made his skin crawl a bit, but he went ahead with it.”

Malcom made a noncommittal sound, but Relm could all but see the cogs turning in his head. She understood his silence; there was nothing they could do about it. Wherever her mate was, he was far away and they would simply have to wait and see what unfolded.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to witness the following night.

The fact that she dreamed of him two nights in a row was alarming enough. As she sunk into the dream and into his perspective, she immediately knew he was in trouble. In the distance she heard his mother and sister cry out for him, unwilling to see him go. His back remained turned to them as he followed two men deep into an expansive estate. The rooms zoomed by in a blur as he hurried to keep up with the men. Fear clenched his heart as his family’s voices faded, and he was left in silence.

Eventually he was led into a room of stone walls. Unlike the rest of the manse, this room was barren, dirty and undecorated. A long table stood in the center, with straps attached to the side. A handful of mages were waiting for them, and they beckoned for her mate to lay on the table.

All the more disturbing were the numerous lyrium bottles and strange tools that lined a shelf nearby. A mage walked over to get them while her mate did as told. Through him, Relm could feel the straps being tightened on his wrists and ankles. Her heart rate spiked with his. The mages leaned over and spoke to him, but their words were drowned out by the blood roaring through his ears. He struggled to move, but the leather restraints held him still.

She never felt so helpless. All she could do was watch through his eyes as the mages milled around him and prepared for whatever they were about to do. Despite all that Malcolm taught her, none of what they were saying made sense. They spoke of complex enchantments and other things she never heard of. More of it was lost on the poor boy tied to the table, who knew even less than she did.

The smell of lyrium tinged the air. He looked up at the ceiling, refusing to watch what they were doing anymore. The mages began to rub something on his body; goosebumps broke out all over his skin. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting.

Nothing happened for minutes on end. Nothing but quiet murmurs and a few snaps of frustration as something gave the mages trouble. Finally, after what felt like forever, the door opened at the far end of the room. She heard the applauding man from the day before come in, barking orders and instructions.

 _“Open your eyes,_ ” he said to her mate.

He complied, hesitantly cracking them open.

The man loomed over him, inspecting him with a sly, pleased smile. _“Good. There’s no need to be afraid. You are going to be part of something_ extraordinary.”

Both Relm and her mate seriously doubted that.

One of the mages told the man they were ready. He nodded, his eyes still on the boy. _“You willingly volunteered for this. You fought for this. And don’t forget,”_ He grabbed his chin and forced his head up. _“you’re mine now.”_

He pulled away and motioned for the mages to proceed. Relm felt like her stomach had plummeted to the floor. _What did he mean by that? Is he…_

Lyrium burned in the air; the odor all but choked her mate. Suddenly there was a hissing sound, and she and her mate both realized that they were injecting the lyrium _into his skin._

He _screamed_ out in utter agony. Relm never heard anything like it and never wanted to again.

Curses and pleas rang off the walls as he begged for them to stop as his skin sizzled and burned. His body convulsed under the pain, muscles and bones straining against the restraints in a desperate bid to escape. Several hands pinned him down, keeping him still as the mages continued to embed the lyrium into his skin.

His whole body felt like it was on fire. Singed skin filled his nostrils, making his eyes water and his nose run. He cried, sobbing and asking over and over for them to stop, that he couldn’t do this.

They refused.

In all the years she dreamed about him, Relm had never do desperately wanted to find him. She would have considered doing almost anything to help him and spare him from this, even if it meant striking a deal with a demon. Her father would be ashamed, but he wasn’t here. He wasn’t witnessing this horror of watching his soul mate being brutalized and marred.

_Stop! Leave him alone! Maker help me, I’ll find you fucking bastards and I’ll-_

The pain spread to his chest, and he nearly threw off those holding him down as his body violently jerked. His back bowed off the table before the hands slammed him back down against it. His heart felt like it was going to explode, and all he wanted was for it to end.

At once, both he and Relm screamed, _“Please!”_

It catapulted her from the Fade and back into the waking world. A scream tore from her throat as she stumbled out of her bed. She barely managed two steps before she keeled over and retched onto the floor.

Vaguely she heard her door bang open and heavy footsteps run over towards her.

“Relm!” her father said, kneeling next to her. His hand rested on her forehead. “ _Breathe._ You’re all right. What happened?”

“B – Bad dream.” She sobbed, tears staining her cheeks as the shock began to wear off.

In the distance, she heard Leandra call out, “Is everything all right? Relm?”

“She’s fine, Leandra! Just a nightmare.” Malcolm called back. “Make sure the twins are all right. I’ll be back in soon.” He turned his attention back to Relm. “Was it your mate? Is he okay?”

She looked over at her father. Her expression was answer enough for him.

He pulled her to him, strong arms wrapping around her shaking frame. Burying her face into his shoulder, Relm began to cry. She knew this dream would stay with her. Worse yet, she feared the dreams in the days to come would be far more awful than anything she saw before.

_Maker keep him safe, until I can find my way to him. Please._

 


	2. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting worse for her soul mate, and Relm Hawke isn't sure how much more she can take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos! Given the positive feedback, I'm going to move forward and turn this into a multi-chaptered work.
> 
> A warning for this chapter: there is mention and slight discussion of rape, though there is NOTHING graphic in detail. Also some inappropriate touching and magisters generally being creepy assholes.

Their eyes roamed over his form, commenting on it like one would a stunning statue on display. That’s what he was to his master’s friends, anyway: a display for them to gawk at and admire. Strange fingers trailed over his arms and chest, tracing the markings on his skin. The embedded lyrium glowed faintly in the dim light, but he looked straight ahead, refusing to watch or meet anyone’s eye. He tried to drown out their words: the almost perverse veneration of his body.

Relm had never seen his markings. As prominent as they were, they were a fuzzy memory in the morning, like so many other details. She could only distinctly remember glimpsing at them once: bright white filigree that adorned his skin in an almost whimsical pattern. They were probably a beautiful sight, but Relm hated them too much to ever give them such credit.

 _“Such a handsome elf,”_ one gawker said, as if it were unbelievable that anyone of the elven race could be such. _“How does – resist him?”_

Her mate swallowed hard, forcing his disgust down.  

A familiar feminine voice snidely commented, _“Rather easily, I would think.”_

 _Her._ Relm would sneer, if she could. The woman had been a recurring sight in those dreams. Dark hair and piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt her mate’s steps. Whenever his master wasn’t around, she tormented and belittled him at every turn.

 _“Come –“_ She said to the elf, smiling cruelly. _“Tell them just how hideous you know you are. Do as your master’s apprentice says.”_

Before her mate was forced to answer, one guest suddenly drunkenly stumbled into him. He fell back and instinctively shoved the offender off of him as he regained his footing.

His master’s voice lashed out like a whip through the air. Her mate grimaced as his master yanked hard on his chain and brought him back to his original spot. From the corner of his eye, Relm could see the woman suppressing her laughter.

_“Touch any of my esteemed guests again, pet, and those pretty lyrium markings on your back will be marred by my switch. Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”_

Another yank on the chain, and onto his knees her mate fell. He did as asked, head bowed low and his apologies profuse.

No matter how many times she watched this kind of scene unfold, it never got easier for Relm. Her mate’s muted reactions made it worse. He kept so much pent up inside, with no outlet to vent his feelings: just his thoughts and exhaustion to occupy his mind when he went to sleep at night. Those dreams were the most peaceful, but in some ways also the most heartbreaking. There were no distractions. All she could see through him was the wall in front of him, and everything she heard were his thoughts, spinning and conflicted and desperately searching for what was lost.

His mind had been altered after the procedure. His memories were gone, his mind practically a blank slate. It took her a little while to realize what had happened. His head had felt different, as if his thoughts didn’t fit in right. It almost felt like she was in another person’s head. Eventually she noticed that he hadn’t thought about or asked after his mother or sister once. In fact, his whole life prior seemed like it never happened.

When it sunk in what had happened, she had wept. The ritual which gave him his markings took away everything that made him _him_ : his name, his family, his dreams. All gone.

To make matters worse, his new master put his old one to shame in the abuse department. Because he was no servant; he was a slave, plain and simple. She knew servants were treated poorly, but not like what he underwent in his master’s house. No employer would ever dare do to a servant what that _monster_ did to her mate. But at least it told her one thing she hadn’t known before: he was in Tevinter, the only place in Thedas where slaves were legal. He _had_ to be there.

She could still feel the tug of the chain around his neck when she woke up that morning. She wiped away the tears that were almost always there now when she woke. And this morning, like all the others before, further convinced her that she needed to go to Tevinter. She needed to find him and free him. Neither of them would know peace until that happened. But there was the issue of convincing her father to let her go.

For months now she’d been trying to work up the courage. Malcolm rarely yelled or lost his temper, but she feared his disapproval more than anything. And of course, there was what her mother and siblings would say. Yet, she knew this couldn’t continue. After three years, she didn’t know how much more she could take, how much more her _mate_ could take. She had to do _something._

It took all day for her to work out in her head what she wanted to say. As evening approached, she tracked down her father in the barn. Taking a deep breath, she stepped in and called out to him.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled tiredly. Relm noticed the lines around his eyes, and the way his hair had greyed so much more in the last few years. Her resolve wavered.

“What is it, Relm? You’re giving me that same look you used to have when you accidentally let the chickens loose.”

She forced a laugh. “Ah, no. The chickens are still in their coop, squawking in their oppressed contentedness.”

Malcolm shoveled some hay off to the side. “If you start on a rant about chicken rights…”

Now that got a more honest chuckle out of her. “Damn, and I was all ready to spring it on you by surprise.” Her foot traced a line in the ground as she stared at the floor, arms crossed nervously. _Just say it now, or you never will._ “No, this… is about something else. My mate, he…”

“Ah.” Malcolm propped his pitchfork up and leaned back against the wall, regarding his oldest daughter. “I wondered when this would come up. You want to go to Tevinter.”

 _Of course he knew._ Nothing got by him.

“Not to stay or anything. Just to find him and get him out of there. Father, I can’t let it continue on like this,” she pleaded. “The dreams are coming almost every week now, and they’re indescribable levels of awful. A couple weeks ago, he had to watch as they _cut open_ someone for a blood magic ritual. They just… _gutted_ her on the table and he had to stand there and see it.”

Malcolm winced at the mental image. She knew that her father did not abide by blood magic, and hoped it would help convince him to let her go.

He sighed. “I cannot imagine.”

“So you understand why I need to do this.”

Malcolm shook his head. Relm’s heart sunk.

“Relm, you are an apostate, and you’ve never traveled alone before, let alone to Tevinter. It is incredibly dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself!” Her hands balled up into fists at her sides. “Besides, it’s Tevinter. Mages rule there. I’d fit right in.”

“Tevinter is an insular society; they would peg you for an outsider very quickly. And you’re talking about freeing a slave. They’re property to their masters, not people. And given what you’ve told me of this magister, I fear what he would do to you if he _caught_ you.”

She wanted to scream. “Then what am I supposed to do? Just endure it and do nothing about it? Wait until his master finally takes it too far and _kills_ him?”

Malcolm’s face hardened. “Relm-”

 _He’s not letting me go_. Clenching her jaw in resigned defeat, she said nothing as she turned and strode out. She marched straight into the house, brushing past the rest of her family without a word.

Leandra noticed and frowned. “Relm, dear, dinner is-”

“Not hungry” was Relm’s only response before she slammed her bedroom door shut behind her. She didn’t leave her room for the rest of the night.

The days following the conversation with her father were tense. For the first time in her life, she actively avoided him. Malcolm seemed content to let her ride out her rage, rather than trying to reason with her. He kept his distance, and she hers.

The only time they interacted was during magic lessons. Even then, she only did as instructed and left as soon as she could. Most of her evenings were spent in her room, sketching away like a woman possessed in her sketchbook. She’d taken up drawing as a child because it was fun, and it was something she had a knack for. Nowadays, it was a way to help destress. In addition, it helped pin down the details of her dreams; what useful visual details she remembered were in that book.

She furiously sketched yet another drawing of her mate, or at least what she imagined he looked like. Every sketch was a little different; this one had him tall with long dark hair. The few certainties she knew of his appearance were incorporated in every sketch. If nothing else, she figured eventually she’d get him right, or at least come close.

She set down her charcoal when her hand began to cramp. As she flexed it to work out the cramps, she paged back through her book with her other hand, looking through her old sketches. Some were of her dreams, but others were of her life, too. She thumbed past studies of Carver practicing his sword work, and Bethany and her ice magic. She almost smiled at the caricature of her mother (un)helpfully yelling at a cow when it refused to budge. One of her better works, in her opinion.

Several pages back, she paused, her heart clenching at a detailed sketch. It was one of her father and her mate (another imagined portrait, of course). They stood side by side, talking and getting to know the other. A fantasy of hers, one she secretly wanted to see happen more than anything.

Guilt gnawed at her. _Maybe I’m being unrealistic, letting childhood stories get to my head._ Most never met their mates; she knew this. But she wanted to be the special exception, and maybe she was letting that interfere with common sense.

She gritted her teeth. _No. It’s not just about that. He can’t honestly expect me to keep having these dreams and living with them, with letting my mate live with them. He’s_ wrong.

She had Malcolm’s stubborn attitude, and neither were willing to back down. Maker knew how long it would have taken before one of them finally gave in had it not been for the nightmare she had the next night.

If her mate receiving the lyrium markings was the pinnacle of physical pain, than the nightmare she went into was the pinnacle of _emotional_ pain.

When she finally broke free from the dream, it was only from years’ of practice that Relm did not scream the house down. She shot out of her bed and out of her room, forgoing her cloak on the way out. She burst through the front door, not caring that it banged loudly as it swung and struck the side of the house. She needed to get out; she felt like she’d suffocate if she stayed inside.

The frosty Fereldan air felt like fire shooting through her lungs as she fought to take deep breaths and not hyperventilate. Her legs shook as she barely managed the walk across the hard ground, the cold biting her toes. She reached the large oak that stood sentry in her backyard and finally collapsed against it, her legs giving out from under her.

Harsh sobs tore from her as she curled up into a ball. The dream replayed over and over again in her mind. No matter what she tried, that monster’s face refused to go away. She kept seeing him loom above her and forcing himself into-

“ _Shit,”_ she spat out, grinding the heels of her hands into her temples. “Why? _Why_?”

And that’s the state Bethany and Carver later found her in. As soon as they came out and saw her, they leapt into action; Bethany running towards her while Carver ducked back inside to get their father.

“Relm!” Bethany cried out, grabbing her sister’s hands and wrenching them away from her head. “Sister, what happened?”

Relm couldn’t manage more than a weak sob. Exhaustion seeped into every pore of her body, and yet her mind would not let her rest.

Bethany pulled her close to her body and hugged her, trying to warm her up. Relm could feel her sister’s skin warm from innate fire magic, an old trick they used on countless winter nights. She leaned against her sister, sucking up her warmth.

Shortly thereafter Malcolm came out and rushed over to them, Carver and Leandra on his heels. He bore a blanket with him, and he tossed it over Relm as soon as he reached her. He knelt down in front of her, eyes level with hers.

Dark brown eyes met his; she could only imagine what he was seeing right now. Worry and dread played out in his expression as he waited in silence.

Speaking the words felt like tearing a knife down her throat, but she knew she had to. They needed an explanation, and she could not keep this to herself.

Her voice trembled. “He raped him.”

* * *

After Relm was brought back inside and given a warm bath, she curled up in her bed where she would stay the rest of the day, relieved from her chores and instructed instead to rest. Vaguely she heard her parents discussing something in earnest. Minutes later, the door swung open and someone left the house.

Bethany visited her often, bringing her tea or milk, or bits of food when Relm felt like she could stomach it. Her mother checked in on her as well. Whatever her beliefs on soul mates were, she couldn’t – and didn’t – deny what her daughter had experienced. She sung to her, helping her fall asleep. Even Carver popped in once or twice, making sure she was doing all right.

Malcolm didn’t return until the afternoon. He offered no explanation to any of his children for his sudden absence. Instead he carried on with his work like he’d never left. That night, he sat beside Relm’s bed and told her a couple of her old favorite childhood stories. Their feud was all but forgotten.

Yet Malcolm – nor any of her family – dared to ask what happened in her dream. Questions hung on the tips of their tongues, Relm could tell, but they knew to keep them to themselves. If Relm wanted to talk, they would let her do so on her own terms. For all her family drove her crazy at times, every once in a while, they got it just right. She felt loved and safe that day; that was more than her mate could say.

The following morning, Relm got up and made herself decent. The shock of the nightmare had worn off, leaving her feeling raw. She forced herself to get on with her routine. She knew she had to push past what she had experienced. It hadn’t happened to her, technically, and she had to separate herself from it, for her sanity’s sake.

After breakfast, which she managed to keep down, Malcolm approached her without warning and beckoned her to follow him. Relm complied without a word, trailing after him as he led her away from their home and out onto the road.

“We’re taking a walk,” he said. “There’s someplace I need to bring you to.”

She wanted to ask where, of course, but something in Malcolm’s demeanor made her hold her tongue. It seemed this was to be a surprise, and she knew better than to try and cajole him into telling her.

Eventually they came upon a small house with kennels attached to its side. Relm questioningly glanced at her father, but he still gave no hint as to what their purpose was. Instead he merely continued onto the property, waving when a man – presumably the owner – came out to greet them.

“This her?” the man said, nodding at Relm.

“Yes.” Malcolm turned and addressed his daughter. “Relm, this is Noah. He’s a former kennelmaster who still breeds mabari.”

“Hello,” she said to Noah.

He gestured for them to follow. “They’re back here.”

Relm’s brow furrowed in confusion as she walked after the two men. Noah lead them into the kennels, where tucked in the back was a pen. As they approached it, the distinct sounds of puppies yipping and playing carried over to them. She gasped softly, eyes widening.

For the first time in days, she cracked a smile. She hurried up to the pen, peering over to get a look. Inside were five mabari pups, rolling around and roughhousing with each other in earnest. She almost reached out a hand to pet one of them, but manners got the better of her.

“Well, what are ya waiting for?” Noah said. “Get in there.”

“Er…?”

Malcolm chuckled. “I didn’t tell her why we’re here.” He walked up next to Relm and nudged her towards the pen. “Do as he says. If you’re lucky, one of them will choose you.”

She stared blankly at her father a long moment, unsure if she heard him correctly. She took another look at the puppies that by now had taken notice of her and had clambered over towards her. “Really?”

“Really. I’ll explain later, and don’t worry about your mother. I already worked it out.”

No true Fereldan would argue about having the chance to bond with a mabari. She hopped into the pen, mindful of little paws as she knelt down and let them come over to her.

All of them sprinted over and sniffed her, clambering up her legs for head scratches and affection. One by one, however, they eventually wandered off after Relm indulged their demands, until only one with big brown eyes and a rolling tongue remained. He adamantly climbed into her lap and snuggled up against her, satisfied with his choice.

“There ya have it,” Noah said. “Decisive little fellow. He’ll be a good companion.”

Malcolm clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Noah.”

“Don’t mention it. I owed ya, anyway. Consider us even.”

After Malcolm and Noah talked for a bit (things about farming and whatever; Relm was too occupied with her new friend to listen), the two Hawkes left Noah’s homestead, puppy in tow and dozing in his new mistress’ arms. The afternoon sun beat down on them as father and daughter made the trek back to their house, silence resuming again for a time.

Suddenly, Malcolm sighed and put his arm around Relm’s shoulders. “You’ve got too much of me in you.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

He snorted. “It can be.” He reached over with his other hand and gave the pup a scratch behind his ears. “We’ll need to think of a good name for him. He’s your dog, but at least let Bethany and Carver have some say in it.”

Relm nodded. It was only fair, considering she was the one who got the chance to bond with one. “If Carver tries to name it Dog, I reserve the right to veto it. And kick him.”

“The veto, yes. Not so much the kicking.”

“The kicking is an additional means of curbing undesirable behavior. How else is he going to learn not to be a complete twat?”

Malcolm gave her that scolding look, the one only a parent can give to a child.

She snickered as she shifted the dog in her arms, rearranging him before her arms fell asleep. The laugh helped her feel normal again, mostly. The dream still haunted the edges of her mind and threatened to overwhelm her again, but with a puppy in her arms, it was a little easier to distract herself from it.

She looked back up at her father, who wore a considering frown. “…what’s this about, really?”

He kept staring ahead as he answered, “I want you to train him. Not just to sit and piss in the yard, but to fight, as he should. Mabari are the best war hounds in Thedas. Teach him to protect you, so I’ll have a bit of peace of mind when you go to Tevinter.”

Relm jerked in surprise, accidentally waking the puppy up. “You’re letting me go?”

“Eventually,” he said, giving her a pointed look. “Your dog will need time to learn and grow, after all.”

“How long?”

“At least a year.” He held up his hand to silence her protests. “Training will take months, Relm, and he can’t defend you when he’s so small.” His eyes softened. “And Tevinter is a long way. You’ll need to earn money to pay your way there.”

Shushing the dog, Relm petted him so he would go back to sleep. “How?”

“There’s always the Chanter’s board. Ask our neighbors what they’re willing to pay for you to do. You’ll still need to keep on top of your chores and lessons as well.”

A hard bargain, but Relm knew he only did it to make sure she was serious about this. And she was. She’d prove it to him, and she’d save up her coin to make her way to the north.

“Thank you, Father,” she murmured. “I…”

He looked _tired,_ Relm noted as he looked at the ground, brow furrowed deeply. So much older than his years. Was she to blame, she wondered with a twist of guilt, for how much he seemed to have aged?

“I am torn here,” he admitted. “A part of me still doesn’t want to allow this. The amount of danger you will be putting yourself in… as a father, I feel compelled to never let you go.” A weather-worn hand ran over his beard, threaded with gray and white. “But as a former dreamer, and even just as a person, I wish you could go immediately. For both your sakes.” He let out a long-drawn sigh. “I am worried about your mate, more than ever. I hope he will make it.”

“This is about the other night.”

“Of course it is.” Malcolm grimaced, clearly pained. “That you had to experience that… And that doesn’t even touch on what your mate actually went through. You at least got to wake up.”

“I know.” She lifted up her puppy and buried her nose into its soft fur. “It seems unfair. Everything he’s been through… it seems it would have been kinder for him to be the dreamer. At least he could escape things for a time.”

“No, it would be crueler. He would have no agency to do anything about it; he’d just watch the life of his mate, knowing he could never reach you. But _you_ can reach _him_. And it’s why I finally decided to let you go.” He aimed a hard stare at her. “Relm, this is not going to be easy. We have a lot of planning to do.”

She met his gaze levelly. “Then we better get to it,” she said, determined to make this happen. Nothing would stop her from getting to Tevinter now, she swore to herself.

For better or worse, fate had other plans.


	3. Of Loss and Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As things in Relm's life fall apart, Fenris's turns unexpectedly for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit later than I wanted. Went to a con, and then got hit with a bit of writer's block.
> 
> Originally, this chapter was going to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it. It helped a lot with the block. So while it'll take a little longer to get to the real meat of the story, on the bright side, a good chunk of the next chapter is already written. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments. Hope you enjoy this chapter

Just two weeks before Relm was to make for Tevinter, tragedy struck.

From her spot against her parents’ bedroom door, Relm watched the healer they called for tend to her father, who laid listlessly in his bed. Ashen-faced and weak, Malcolm could barely talk as he described his symptoms to the elderly healer. After examining him, he gave Malcolm a draught of something before getting up and walking out of the room. He looked grim-faced as he went up to Leandra and spoke to her in hushed tones.

Malcolm would not survive this. Relm could feel it, and her heart squeezed painfully in grief.

Malcolm knew this, too. It showed in the way his eyes fell on her as Leandra showed the healer to the door, quietly thanking him for his help. And it could be heard in the way he spoke to Relm later that night, when she came back to check on him.

“Forgive me,” he murmured.

Relm took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Nothing to be sorry for. At least we have the money for the healer to come back-”

“Don’t waste it,” he said. “I know my time is at an end. I know you can sense it.” He paused. “Your mother can, too, even if she won’t admit it. Her soul knows.”

Fighting back tears, Relm bowed her head to hide her grief. “Did you ever tell her…?”

“No. Given her disbelief, I did not think it wise.” Malcolm coughed harshly. “To me, it didn’t matter if she knew or not. I was happy enough that I got to be with her. That’s more than most can say.” His fingers gently wrapped around hers. “Relm, I like to believe this has happened for a reason. That the Maker isn’t just an arse above us who’s really stopped caring.”

She let out a watery laugh. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be insulting Him right now.”

“Maybe not, but that’s never stopped me before.”

He tried to lift his hand. Seeing him struggle, Relm picked it up and let him guide her to where he wanted it to go. She moved it until it rested against her cheek.

“Relm… you’ll meet your mate. Somehow, someday. You won’t be prepared for it, and it’ll be when you least expect it, but you will. I promise.”

She no longer felt so sure of that, but she nodded anyway, wanting to keep him at peace.

The family gathered around him that night, talking with him and, even if none of them wanted to admit it, saying their good-byes. The conversations lasted well into the night, everyone fighting to stay awake. But sleep and the inevitable beckoned. One by one, they nodded off; as Relm’s eyes drooped close, the last thing she saw was her mother tuck herself against Malcolm’s side.

He was dead by morning.

The money Relm had saved dried up quickly between the funeral costs, hiring help for the farm, and generally taking care of the family in Malcolm’s absence. Whether she liked it or not, she had stepped into his shoes upon his death and found herself in charge of the family and household.

Her mother did not help matters. Leandra became distant. Often she wandered out into the backyard and would simply sit and stare for hours at a time. She stopped cooking and cleaning. Relm struggled to keep up with it. Luckily, Carver and Bethany were on hand and stepped up to help.

Those two – and Relm’s beloved mabari – were the only things keeping her sane. Between Leandra’s grief, maintaining the home stead and keeping an eye on the templars (as Malcolm was no longer around to look out for them), she found her life in a miserable state. Smiles were rare in the following days, and as overdramatic as she knew it sounded, she felt like she would never be happy again.

 _I guess my mate and I get to suffer together_ , she thought drolly as she climbed into bed late one night, just three short weeks after Malcolm’s passing. She wearily pulled her blanket over her and closed her eyes, waiting to play spectator to another nightmare.

What greeted her when she entered the dream were shouts and chaos. Her mind reeled as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Blasts of fire shot past and above them as she saw her mate run, cutting down whomever got in his way. She could hear his master shouting at him to keep going, that they were almost to the docks. People screamed in the streets as large horned men – _Qunari? –_ fought with Tevinter soldiers. Blood ran down the roads as smoke billowed out from a shop window.

 _What in the Void is going on?_ Relm thought.

Magister and slave eventually reached a harbor where ships were beginning to pull away. The Tevinter mage cursed in a panicked voice as he hurried ahead, waving down some men still preparing their ship for departure.

 _“I am a magister of the Imperium!”_ he shouted as he neared them, his slave right on his heels. _“I demand safe passage on your ship!”_

The sailors nodded and grabbed his arm, pulling him on board. _“We gotta go then! Get on!”_

As Relm’s mate moved to follow, one of the sailors shoved him back. “ _No room for you! Get out of here.”_

The magister spun around sharply upon hearing the news. _“No! He must come, he-”_

But the sailors weren’t hearing any of it. They all but dragged the mage on board before they began to untie the ship from the pier.

The now abandoned slave watched in shock as the ship pulled away. His master leaned over the side and shouted something to him, but even his sensitive hearing couldn’t pick it up over the noise surrounding him. The battle in town drew closer to him, but he stood frozen, unsure as to what to do next.

Relm found herself completely stunned as well. _The monster left his precious “pet”._ Not willingly, but that hardly mattered. She almost wanted to be angry at him for abandoning her mate, but as the shock began to wear off, she realized that her mate had a chance he never had before.

Her mate snapped out of his stupor and turned and bolted. He ran with a small crowd of citizens also fleeing the fighting. They dodged around debris and bodies, some tripping and falling. He just kept running, not knowing where but knowing he had to keep moving.

Suddenly a blast of magic hit the elf in his side. The force of the blast made him stumble and he fell to his knees, clutching the wound. Relm could feel scorching pain radiate from just under his ribs. Blood dripped between his fingers as he crawled away from the chaos. His vision began to blur as he moved away from the town and into the nearby jungle, hoping to find refuge there.

_Hang on. Please hang on!_

The world around them began to darken. The last thing either of them saw before her mate passed out was a figure painted in white coming towards him.

“Relm?”

Leandra’s voice pulled her fully from the Fade. Relm’s eyes snapped open, and she was met with the sight of her mother in her room, frowning in worry.

“You were dreaming again,” her mother murmured. “Another nightmare?”

Relm hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as she took in her mother. Leandra hardly had said a word to any of her children since Malcolm died. She didn’t know what to make of her suddenly snapping out of her fugue. A part of her wanted to lash out at her for abandoning them when they needed her most.

And yet, she refrained. Her mother lost her soul mate. Relm could barely imagine what that must feel like. Her whole body tensed in aching whenever she simply thought about something happening to hers, and she had never even _met_ him. Though it didn’t necessarily excuse Leandra for her actions, Relm could at least appreciate the massive amount of strength it took on Leandra’s part to keep herself going.

Realizing she left her mother’s question unanswered, Relm quickly shoved off her covers, shaking her head. “No, not really. Just a bit more exciting than usual.”

“Oh, good. I… I do not know what to do if you have another one. Your father…”

 _Always handled them,_ Relm thought, finishing Leandra’s sentence. “I’ll be fine.”

Leandra nodded. “Come help me with breakfast, would you?”

Just like that, her mother bounced back. Not fully: her smile hardly reached her eyes anymore, and she still sometimes wandered out for a few hours, looking lost as she walked through the surrounding fields, searching for something she could never find. But at least it happened less and less frequently; it was a step in the right direction.

It provided little solace for Relm’s own personal worries, though. It took over a week and a half before the next dream came. Relm spent the time restlessly as she carried out her chores and duties with only half a mind. The other half relentlessly dwelled on what she saw and dreaded what had happened to her mate. She took naps when she could, always in hope that she’d see something to allay her worry – or confirm her fears.

When she finally did see, she was more than surprised.

He was in a village in the jungle, surrounded by humans and a Qunari or two. Somehow he was on his feet, despite his earlier injury. Some of the people in the village were painted in white, while others weren’t and wore simple clothes. One was talking with her mate, speaking slowly, mispronouncing a few words here and there.

 _“Food for you,”_ he said, handing the elf a piece of fruit.

Her mate hesitated, brow furrowing in confusion.

The man held it out to him further, smiling. _“Eat. Bring your strength back.”_

Eventually, after a long moment of uneasy staring and mistrust, her mate grabbed the fruit and took a bite out of it. His body tensed, waiting for… something to explain the kindness he was being shown. Perhaps a trick that was being played on him, or maybe even poison in his food.

But nothing happened. The man nodded before he gestured for the elf to keep following him. _“Many wonder about you. Come and meet the rest of my people.”_

Relm watched the whole dream in a state of astonishment, almost as shocked as her mate at the way he was being treated. That he was an elf – and a _slave –_ meant nothing to them. They talked and asked him questions just like any other person. Many questioned his odd markings, but they asked without malice or without the gleeful wonder many of that monster’s friends had. Rather, their questions were borne out of simple curiosity.

Her mate hardly seemed to know what to do with himself. Though he often shrunk back and said nothing to the villagers, unsure as to what to say without risking retaliation, they didn’t seem to mind. The man apologized on his behalf, saying he was still recovering and seemed a little shy.

 _“You can stay with me for now,_ ” the man offered her mate as they walked. _“I hope you don’t mind: I took that stupid chain off your neck. It looked uncomfortable.”_

Her mate shook his head, glad to be rid of it as well.

Whoever these people were, Relm felt grateful for them. By sheer dumb luck, her mate had been rid of his master and taken in by kind strangers. Maybe, finally, his days of suffering were over.

When she woke up, it was with a smile, something that hadn’t happened in years. Another long day of work and trying to take care of her family laid ahead of her, but for the first time since Malcolm died, she was able to face it with far less dread.

Bethany noticed her shift in mood, and poked her in the side later that afternoon as they tended to the garden. “You look a little happier. Did something happen?”

Carver pretended not to listen as he dug out some weeds, but Relm knew her brother too well to be fooled.

Glancing back at Bethany, she nodded. “He escaped.”

Bethany’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Truly? How? Did you see?”

Relm recounted what she did witness, pulling in as many details as she could remember. By the time she was done, even Carver was looking over at her.

“He’s living in the jungle?” Bethany said, frowning thoughtfully as she plucked a tomato off its vine. “I wonder what that’s like. It must be exciting.”

“Don’t think he gives a nug’s ass where he is,” Carver muttered. “So long as it isn’t where he was.”

“I suppose you’re right. But, oh… do you think his master will come back and find him?”

It crossed Relm’s mind. She couldn’t imagine the monster leaving his precious “pet” forever. But the jungle was likely difficult to navigate. If he did return, he might not be _able_ to find him. That was her only hope.

“He’ll try,” Relm said, looking down and resuming picking off some beans. “Let’s hope he fails. If I never have to see his disgusting face again, it’ll be too soon.”

Bethany nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m glad your mate is safe. Maybe no more nightmares for you?”

She shrugged, but a hopeful smile accompanied it. “Only one way to find out.” At least she knew one thing: she wouldn’t dread the next dream.


	4. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris gets a taste of long overdue freedom. But when his new life comes under threat, Relm takes matters into her own hands. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: light smut (nothing very graphic but still NSFW), violence of the angsty, oh-god-why variety and death.

And so, like in the past, Relm began to find solace again in her dreams. When her own life got to be too much – burdened as the head of the household, a task she was not ready for - she took comfort in what her mate experienced.

The transformation he underwent in the following months astounded her.

In the beginning, he was shy and withdrawn from the Fog Warriors. That’s who they were, she finally learned: natives of the island they lived on that fought against both the Qunari and Tevinter. “Reserve” was not a word in their vocabulary. These people expressed their emotions openly: anger, joy, disgust, sadness, affection… If something was on their mind, everyone knew it, good or ill.

And _Maker,_ they were an affectionate lot. They clapped hands on shoulders and hugged without abandon or hesitation. It overwhelmed her poor mate at times, who struggled to even indicate that he was hungry, let alone how he felt.

But as the weeks passed, and as her mate began to feel safer, he slowly opened up his rescuers. He began to trust them and tell them what he thought. It was a marvel to see her mate be himself again, after being under that monster’s foot for so long.

The man who took him in encouraged him to be forthcoming at every turn. Her mate was often in his company, and of all the people in the village, he stuck with him the most. Hardly a dream didn’t feature the man in some way. Relm grew to like him; he always treated the elf well. The pair grew close enough that Relm began to suspect something was beginning to develop between them.

One night, as she drifted from her mind and into his, she found herself – well, found _him_ – being shoved against a wall. Initially she reacted with disbelief and anger; _how could they – who would –_

She immediately shut up when a mouth, hard and hungry, closed over his. A tongue pressed at his lips, begging entrance. Her mate reciprocated in kind, moaning low in his throat as their kiss deepened.

_…oh. Well then._

They broke apart briefly, the other man panting hard in her mate’s ear as he breathed out his name. Relm vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to the man who took her mate in. As usual, his name escaped her. But she found it rather hard to think anyway as the man groped the elf, eliciting another moan from him.

He murmured words neither Relm nor her mate understood. He kissed the elf’s neck, sucking and biting, and Relm could feel it like it was happening to her in her own bed. She wondered if her own body was responding to the sensations the way her mate’s was.

In the back of her mind – the part that wasn’t going hazy from the lovemaking being carried out - she worried about how far this would go and how her mate would react, given what his master had done to him. Luckily, as things progressed, it seemed to have little to no bearing; the Fog Warrior’s ministrations brought only pleasure, not a memory of pain.

As they tumbled onto the bed, limbs and tongues tangled together, Relm felt herself aching for the same release that her mate needed. His lover took his time in bringing him to his peak, and both soul mates wanted to snap at him to hurry things along.

Her mate eventually caved and begged his lover for release, teeth clenched and his hands digging into the other man’s hair.

 _“As you wish,”_ the man said with a smile.

The orgasm that tore through him moments later jolted Relm from the dream and back into reality. Her back bowed off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. She barely had the presence of mind to bite back a yell.

When it was over, her body collapsed back onto the bed. Relm panted, eyes slightly wide as her mind came down from the high and took stock of what just happened.

“Damn,” she muttered, chuckling under her breath.

As she got up from her bed, hoping to the Maker and back that she didn’t look flushed or something embarrassing that would tip off her family, she played the scene over in her head, glad that she got to feel something pleasant through her mate’s mind for once.

Yet, a foreign emotion crept up on her as she thought it over, one that caught her off guard: jealousy.

“Get a grip,” she said to herself as she wandered over to her dresser to put clothes on. Just because it wasn’t her who got to make love to her mate didn’t mean she had a right to be jealous. Sure, he was her soul mate, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be with others.

She rubbed a hand over her face. The minor bout of irrational jealousy aside, she _was_ happy for him. Happy that he found someone, that he had a new home and was free. It was enough.

* * *

 

A few more months of happy dreams passed, and Relm, to her later regret, came to take it for granted. Though Leandra relied on her more and more, though Bethany began to show signs of resenting her magic and drifting away from Relm, and though Carver grew more sullen towards her, she took strength from her mate’s life. Perhaps too much, in hindsight.

As she took a walk with her mabari one afternoon, a wave of unexplained dread washed over her without warning. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide in shock. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt something like this. As her father explained to her, _“If you feel an unexplained burst of emotion – and not just a swing in mood, but a powerful, completely unexplained surge -  then it could be coming from your mate.”_

She used to get them all the time when her mate lived with that monster. Back then they came so frequently that she had gotten used to them. But that had been months ago now.

Sensing his mistress’s distress, the mabari whined and gently butted her leg with his head.

Relm absentmindedly petted his head, spacing out as she stared at nothing. A dream seemed inevitable tonight, and she dreaded what she might see. The rest of the day would be spent in restless worry, and as usual, she’d be helpless to do anything about it.

“I could always…”

Her stomach clenched as she considered her options. There _was_ something she could do, rather than just wait for the dream to come. An option Malcolm had taught her not long before he died, in preparation for her trip to Tevinter. One that he stressed should only be done when necessary, because it was one that would put both her soul and her mate’s in jeopardy if she did not do everything right.

The feeling of dread grew as she turned and made her way home, and the more she thought on it, the more convinced she became it was necessary to go ahead with her idea. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified.

As she crossed over the road and made a bee line for the house, she shouted for Bethany. If she was going to do this, she would not do it alone. First, she needed to prepare.

By the time Bethany found her, she had already gathered up chalk and the few lyrium potions they had in stock. Her little sister frowned in confusion as Relm told her nothing, instead merely gesturing for her to follow.

“What’s going on?” Bethany asked.

Relm led her to the barn, where she closed the door behind them once they were inside. She handed Bethany a couple of the bottles. Still saying nothing by way of explanation, she climbed the ladder to the loft. Hay covered the floorboards, but she quickly shoved it aside to clear the floor.

Befuddled, Bethany climbed up after her, lyrium bottles tucked carefully against her. Relm drew out circles and patterns on the floor after setting her share of the bottles down.

“ _Relm,_ ” Bethany said, worry tinging her voice. “What are you going to do?”

“Going to take a little trip into the Fade and have a chit chat with the spirit that connects my mind with my mate’s,” she finally said as she continued marking up the floorboards.

“Why?” Bethany demanded. “Sister, that’s dangerous-”

“ _I know,_ ” Relm cut her off, glancing up at her. “Got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. I can’t ignore this one, not when things have been going so well.”

Bethany sighed in exasperation. “Do you even know what or where that spirit is? And even if you can find it and it will send you, if something goes wrong-”

“I know,” Relm repeated, softer this time as she finished drawing. “Which is why I asked you to be here. If things do go badly, if I can’t make it back or if I get possessed, you need to kill me. Without hesitation.”

“ _No,”_ Bethany gasped, just as a sharp bark emitted from the bottom of the ladder.

Relm looked towards the ladder, eyes narrowed. “That goes for you, too, Canis. You need to protect Bethany and rip me apart if I attack her.”

He whined and pawed at the ladder.

“Please don’t do this,” Bethany pleaded, kneeling down until she was level with Relm. “You’ll see what happened in your next dream. Why do you have to see it now?”

“Because that’s what my gut is telling me to do. I might be able to help. I’m less a helpless bystander this way.”

“And you might rend your soul, or his, in two in the process. _Relm-”_

The eldest Hawke held out her hand expectantly. “Hand me a lyrium potion.”

“Please!”

“ _Hand it to me._ ” Her tone brokered no argument.

* * *

 

Relm never actively sought out a spirit before. She stumbled around the Fade for a time, trying to find the spirit she needed. The only hint Malcolm had given her as to how to find it was, “ _You’ll know when you see it. You’ll remember.”_

_Because that’s not vague or anything. Thanks for that, Father._

Eventually a little tug in the back of her mind guided her down a certain path, an offbeat little trail that wound its way around a mountain which then turned into a castle, and then an upside down table ( _Stupid Fade and its stupid changing environment)._

She all but ran into the spirit when she turned the final corner. It met her with a bright stare, its “arms” clasped in front of it in an unassuming posture. “Little bird!” it said to her, its voice a gentle tingle that ran down Relm’s spine. “But wait… you come differently. You are here in full consciousness.”

“Something is happening to my mate,” Relm said. “Spirit, I need you to bring my mind to him, like you have been at night for all these years.”

“Little bird, if I do that, you put your spirit at stake. And his. Even the strongest souls can shatter in the process. It is not like when you sleep, and I take you there unknowingly.” The spirit worried its “lip”. “You will come with awareness. You will feel the journey there. It is maddening. And if you do make it to him, his soul is more likely to feel yours. Souls do not take to foreign invaders well. If his soul forces yours out in the process-“

“It all ends very horribly,” Relm finished, huffing out a sigh. “I’m aware.”

The spirit nodded. “Very well. I will stand sentry, waiting to snatch you back if I can. But it will be harder like this. Are you ready?” It reached out one of its “hands” towards her. “For you are right; the poor wolf howls in pain. At least you heard and came this time.”

Relm wasn’t quite sure what the spirit meant by that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Taking a bracing breath, she closed her eyes and nodded.

The spirit reached out its “hand” and touched her forehead.

Her mind went blank. No thoughts came. She could not think of anything. It felt like the Void had swallowed her whole, consuming everything and leaving nothing. Terror clawed at her throat, but she couldn’t scream. All she could do was keep her eyes screwed shut, afraid of what she’d see if she opened them.

Then a rush of breath slammed into her, and her eyes flew open. As they did, she immediately became aware of her surroundings. They were back in the jungle, but not in the village that had become the frequent backdrop to her dreams. The jungle smell lingered with a tinge of sweat. It was like in the dreams, but everything felt more real, more tangible. She swore it almost felt like she was back in her own body, but logic reminded her that she wasn’t.

This was definitely her mate’s mind, but the spirit had the right of it: she felt like an odd fixture in it, not the easy meld of spectatorship like she was used to.

“You will not take him!”

 _The man. The one who took my mate in._ Her mate’s head swiveled to the left towards the voice.

The Fog Warrior stood with his brethren directly between Fenris and a group of people who wore steel armor and bore emblems on their plates that Relm vaguely recognized.

“I will,” a voice slithered from the group, one that Relm knew all too well. “He is mine. I understand he’s quite a strapping fellow, but he belongs to me. If I were to be so bold, I’d say you’re harboring stolen property.”

 _No. No no no no…_ The monster had come back; no wonder the dread had been all but overwhelming. _But how? How did he find him?_

Her mate’s head bowed in resignation, fists clenched.

The Warrior shook his head. “He belongs to no one. A person cannot be owned. We care not what your Imperium says on the matter.”

The mage sighed in annoyance. “So you will not see reason. Very well. Pet, dispose of them, then get ready to leave.”

Cold shock hit Relm as her mate nodded and – so very begrudgingly – moved towards his saviors. _You – but he can’t – Please, don’t. No. NO!_

The sickening sound of her mate’s fist tearing into the first warrior was one she’d never forget. Her own mind reeled, unable to believe what was happening as the first body hit the ground. A resigned sort of rage boiled within him as he cut and punched through the men. In the meantime, the magister ordered his men to aid her mate in the slaughter. The warriors fell, one by one, despite their best efforts. They had not come prepared for a fight.

When her mate reached the last man – the one whom he shared a bed with and had lived with for months – Relm snapped out of her shock and screamed, _Stop!_

He hesitated, eyes widening. A moment of clarity broke through, and he lowered his hand and looked around him.

The bodies of those who took him in laid strewn on the ground. Some with their chests yanked open, others with cuts and tears marring their corpses. It seemed like all their eyes were turned towards him, staring him down. Some in accusation, some in disappointment. And worst of all, a few in understanding.

A sob tore out of his throat.

The remaining Fog Warrior took out a knife and threw it at the magister. He moved, but not quickly enough; the blade shot straight into his shoulder. He shrieked in pain as he recoiled back. His men gathered around him, while a few went to charge the remaining Warrior.

Before they could reach him, he pulled out a bottle and threw it at the ground. Immediately a plume of the Warriors’ signature fog began to cover the area.

The man grabbed Fenris, yanking him with him as he tore away from the Tevinters. The elf stumbled after him, swallowing back sobs as the guilt began to set in.

Relm couldn’t tell how far they ran, only that it was quite a distance, as eventually they could no longer hear the magister screaming for his slave to come back to him. Then, without warning, the Fog Warrior halted, almost sending the elf toppling over from momentum.

“Go. Run. While you have a headstart.”

The slave gaped at him. “You would see me escape, after what I’ve done?”

Despite the extremely harrowing situation, Relm realized that this was the first time she’d heard her mate’s voice. Well, clearly enough to really identify it. Before, it’d been muddled and distant, almost like she was listening to it underwater. But now, she could identify it clear as day. A little moment of joy in an otherwise horrific circumstance.

“Yes, I would. They’ll catch up to you eventually, but I can buy you time.”

 _Run. You have to run!_ As unlikely as it was to work, Relm tried to force his body to move, to run.

Her mate shook his head. “Where will I go? I just killed nearly everything I ever held dear. I killed your brothers. My master-”

“He. Is. Not. Your. Master.” The warrior punctuated each word with a shake of the elf’s shoulders. “You are yours.”

Relm’s mate clenched his teeth. “So you expect me to live with what I’ve done, and go with your blessing? My escape bought with your life?”

“Yes.”

He snarled. “You are insane!”

A sentiment Relm shared, but she also felt grateful that he was willing to give her mate a chance to escape. And with that came guilt. But she also knew that there was no arguing with the man.

_You have to go. Don’t make what he’s doing in vain._

“This is my choice. I took you in, knowing this might happen. I know you were raised a slave, and you feel the compulsion to obey. I hope you learn to fight it, to be your own man someday.”

“I am bound-”

“Not to him.” The man smiled sadly. “To another, yes, but they are no master of you.” He poked the elf’s forehead. “You are not alone. Someone waits for you: the other half we all strive to reach. Go. Find them. Your fate lies with them, whoever they are.”

Suddenly, shouts cut through the trees; the soldiers had caught up with them.

The warrior turned and sneered. “Tevinter bastards run faster than I thought.” He shoved at the elf, shouting “ _Go!_ ” before turning to meet the soldiers that burst through the foliage.

The elf stood rooted in his spot, unable to move. He felt like he should surrender, but he wanted… he so badly wanted-

Relm refused to see him taken back. Not if she could help it. With every ounce of will she had, hoping to the Maker and Andraste and whoever else would hear, she reached out to him, hoping he would feel her, and hear her. As she did, something clicked in her head, something that had eluded her for all these years, now remembered in a moment of desperation.

At the top of her proverbial lungs, she screamed, _Fenris, run!_

He ran.

* * *

 

With a jolt, she found herself back in the barn, lying on the floorboards. She blinked, taking in her surroundings and reminding herself of where she was, of who she was. She inhaled deeply in a bid to settle her stomach and her nerves. Closing her eyes, she gave herself a moment to be glad that she came back in one piece, with no demons having decided to hitchhike back with her.

And his name. She finally could remember his name.  _Fenris._ Though, it niggled in the back of her mind; that's not always what he was called, back when he had his family.  _But what was it? Something... with an L?_

“Relm?”

 _Mother._ She quickly sat up and crawled to the edge of the loft.

Looking up at her was her family, nervously standing around and waiting. Except for Carver: he looked _pissed._

“I’m fine,” she said as she hurried down the ladder. She turned them, quick to placate their fears. “Not possessed and soul’s in tact, but Bethany, if you want to-”

Leandra cut her off with a sharp glare. Relm stopped, eyes wide. _Oh, shit._

“How could you be so reckless?” her mother hissed. “The dreams are one thing; those are beyond your control. But this? Putting yourself and all of us in danger-”

“I wouldn’t have if I didn’t feel it was-”

“Necessary?” Carver cut in. He took a step towards her. “You felt it was _necessary_ to go into the Fade, open yourself up to risk of possession and who knows what else for – for what? Some imagined twit-”

“He is not imagined, you ass!” Relm snapped back.

Leandra put a hand on Carver’s arm. “Enough. Both of you.” She aimed a pointed look at her oldest. “Imagined or not, you put us all at risk with what you did.”

“That’s why I had-”

“Asking your sister to _kill_ you if something went wrong? How could you put that burden on her? For a man who may or may not exist, for one you’ve certainly never met?” Leandra clenched her jaw stubbornly; the woman was clearly fighting back tears. “We’re your family, Relm. We count on you to protect us. So you will _not_ do this again. Understood?”

Relm knew this was not a battle she could win, not with her mother so determined, and with the guilt having effectively taken root in her. She nodded in assent, looking away.

Leandra ushered the twins out, and they left without a further word. Bethany glanced over at her sister with a sympathetic grimace, but even she had nothing to say as she followed her mother and brother out of the barn.

Left alone, Relm slumped to the ground, hiding her head between her knees as she pulled them up to her body. Sniffing back tears, she tightened into a ball, wishing desperately her father was here to comfort her and offer advice.

But she was alone and on her own, just like her mate. The Fog Warrior’s words felt hollow now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Hawke just can't have nice things. Next chapter will finally enter into the Dragon Age 2 timeline proper, so expect some familiar faces to be making their entrance. 
> 
> I wish I could have gone into more detail about Fenris' time with the Warriors, but alas. If I did that, we wouldn't be getting into Kirkwall until, like, Chapter Ten or something. The woes of pacing.
> 
> Thank you all again for the comments and kudos!


	5. The City of Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirkwall becomes Hawke's new home as the Blight drives her and her family from Lothering. Though she knows her life will be different, even she can't predict how much as fate makes its next move.

A life on the run. That was her mate’s reality now. Fenris resolved that he was never going back, that the Warriors’ sacrifice would not be in vain. He had a choice, and he’d made it. Bitterness and anger clouded his thoughts more often than not, though Relm could hardly blame him, after what he’d done and lost. She often felt the same at times, though her reasons were far different.

After the day Fenris fled from his master, Relm never spoke of her dreams or her mate to her family again. To her, they clearly wanted no part of it. None of them asked, either, though she suspected Bethany still wanted to at times.

She would never find out.

Rumors began to spread about a large darkspawn incursion. Some even dared to whisper _Blight._ Carver took off and joined the king’s army, leaving the women to care for the homestead. Leandra fretted and prayed. Relm consoled her as best she could, swallowing her own worry and anger for Carver leaving them and risking his life. Mostly because she suspected he simply wanted to prove himself, not out of a sense to protect his family, as he claimed.

Whatever his reasons truly were, she could not doubt one thing: he had his family in mind when he outran the darkspawn and made it home, all but collapsing when he did. As Bethany and Leandra tried to help him up, he shook his head violently and shouted that they needed to leave _now._

They barely had time to gather what little they could: some food and clothes, their weapons and a handful of precious possessions. Relm managed to stash her sketchbook in her satchel, along with a book or two her father gave to her.

As the Hawkes packed up their things and ran, they all glanced back at their home one last time, knowing this was good-bye.

And that’s how Relm found herself on the run as well, though what she was running from was far worse than slavers.

 

* * *

 

Another pile of bodies laid at his feet. Relm watched, almost impassively, as Fenris spat before turning and heading down the hall. He placed a few of the coins he’d taken off of his pursuers on the innkeeper’s counter, apologizing for the mess before he headed outside.

Adjusting the sword on his back, he inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs like a salve. The land around him was unfamiliar, both to himself and to Relm. She’d long since given up trying to figure out where he was. He’d left Seheron, and she suspected he was still somewhere in the north. Beyond that, she didn’t have any idea.

As he began to walk, heading for Maker knows where, he began humming a tune under his breath. One that, the longer Relm listened to it, the more she began to realize she’d heard it somewhere before. Maybe. It certainly _felt_ familiar, but as to where she’d heard it…

She woke slowly, the tune fading from her mind, replaced with the creaking of the ship bound for the Free Marches. She lifted her head and looked around. Her mother and brother were curled up just feet away from her. Aveline, the new tagalong, had fallen asleep sitting upright against the ship’s mast. Dozens of others slept around her. Save for a young couple in the corner, she was the only one awake. She laid her head back down and allowed herself a moment to take stock.

They were out of Ferelden and heading to safety, but at great cost.

 _Bethany._ Her heart twisted and pulled, and for what felt like the hundredth time in days, she fought back tears. She’d failed to protect her, to act in time, and now her sister was dead. Their final days together were spent at arm’s length, each one hesitant to confront the other about what bothered them. Now she’d never have the chance.

And of course, there was Wesley’s loss, too. Though he was a templar and distrusted them from the start, he’d been willing to help. Despite Bethany being a mage, he’d given her last rites and prayed for her journey to the Maker. Then, having to see Aveline have to take his life before the Blight could… Relm would never get that out of her head.

_Focus. It’s done. We’ll be in Kirkwall soon, and Uncle Gamlen will take us in._

Or so Leandra kept saying. Relm found it hard to put faith in a relative she never knew, but it was better than despair. It was better than clinging onto what was lost, and what could have been.

She closed her eyes and listened to the ocean crash against the hull, letting the sound drown out her buzzing thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Kirwall, the City of Chains. It cut a threatening picture as they sailed in through the strait and into the harbor. Within days of landing, Relm felt those chains clamp her to the city and to a new life.

At least they made it in, which was more than so many other refugees could say. Even if it meant she and Carver were essentially indentured servants for the next year.

“You made _criminals_ out of my children!” Leandra snapped at Gamlen late one night.

“I gave them a way inside!” he shot back. “What else could I have done, Leandra?”

Relm groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. They had had this argument nearly every night since they came. Every night it went nowhere. _Why do you enjoy beating this dead horse, mother?_

The dream that night afforded her little comfort; it was more of her mate just moving, putting as much distance between himself and Tevinter. The most she pulled from his thoughts was a change in plans. Until now, he stayed in smaller towns and villages. With how persistent his pursuers were, though, he considered trying to stay in a larger city in the hopes of being able to hide in a larger population.

A place came to mind, but of course it slipped from her memory by the time she woke up. Relm merely grunted in familiar frustration before she got up and started her day.

Today’s work sent her to Hightown. While she enjoyed being out of Lowtown, any trip into the city’s upper reaches always left her feeling like someone spat in her face.

She learned to keep her head down and to not eavesdrop on those passing by her, but it was impossible not to catch snippets of conversations on her way through.

“…ran off, spouting on about that soul mate nonsense. Fool’s errand, and a blasphemous one at that.”

“…teaches us to resist the Maker’s first children, and the lies in which they tempt us with. Trust not your dreams, and place your faith…”

“Dream-blocking potions! Come get the most effective potion of its kind for just five silvers!”

Relm paused in her steps as she looked for the source of the heckling merchant’s voice. She spotted him holding out his wares to passersby. A few even stopped, perusing his product and inquiring as to how well it worked.

“Word is that stuff gives you the runs for days.”

The familiar voice made Relm turn and greet Aveline with a snort. “It’s not even possible, anyway.”

“It feeds into people’s delusions,” Aveline said with a shrug. “He’ll sell well for a time, until the complaints roll in and he’s chased out.”

Relm continued to watch the merchant as he sold a potion to an eager looking noblewoman. “I just don’t get it. I know the Chantry denounces the idea of soul mates, but I’ve never seen any place treat it with so much… open disdain.” She shook her head. “There should be a big sign between those statues in the harbor saying ‘Take your soul mate crap and shove it, you Makerless heathen’.”

Aveline nudged her towards a quieter spot, away from the crowd. The two walked over to there, the older woman looking over her shoulder before leaning against the wall.

“I’ll be honest,” Aveline said, her voice low. “I’ve never seen it like this, either. Sure, no one in any place I’ve ever lived shouted their belief from the rooftops, but…”

It comforted Relm to hear that she wasn’t the only one who thought the city seemed overzealously against the concept. “Feels like I hear about it everywhere. It’s usually something that’s kept hush-hush, no matter what side of things you fall on.”

“Apparently, there’s reason for it. I heard a story about a cult that strongly believed in it,” Aveline said. “Used to be huge here in the city some years back, preaching their ideas all over the place.”

“Oh, the Chantry must have loved that. They do enjoy competition, after all.”

Aveline rolled her eyes. “Sure, if enjoyment is derived from butting heads with said cult. After a lot of clashes, the Chantry eventually sent the templars after them, and that’s the last anyone heard of them.”

The Chantry and violent suppression were long-time bosom friends. Still, Relm felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought. “Were they mages?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think the templars cared.” Aveline pushed off against the wall. “I’m not saying it’s right, but it at least explains the mindset. Anyway, I’ve got to get back. You watch yourself now, Hawke.”

She waved to the redhead as she walked away. “What else do I do?”

 

* * *

 

That’s how Relm Hawke spent her first year in Kirkwall: smuggling whatever Athenril needed and keeping her temper in check, lest she punch a Chantry sister for spouting off vitriol about soul mates. She made a name for herself in the underground, to her bemusement and to Carver’s irritation. It wasn’t something Relm liked to speak much of; she felt little pride in being considered a good criminal.

Even by the time they had paid off their debt, her life felt as if it were going nowhere. Any attempts to better it backfired. When a dwarf named Bartrand rejected their offers to join his expedition, Relm decided she’d just about hit rock bottom, and she could tell Carver felt the same, judging by the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fist. She all but pulled him away from the dwarf. The siblings talked and went back and forth, both trying to figure out what to do to get on that Deep Roads expedition.

Frustrated and preoccupied, Relm never saw the thief coming, not until he’d already bumped into her and snatched her pouch.

“Hey!”

She and Carver ran after him, but the purse snatcher was quick. As he put more and more distance between them, she thought for sure she had lost him, and her money, for good.

To her surprise, as they rounded the corner, they saw him pinned to a wall by an arrow. Even more strangely, he was handing her pouch over to a dwarf who had a wicked looking crossbow on his back. He punched the man square in the jaw before yanking the arrow out. Without a glance back at the man he just assaulted, the smiling dwarf walked over Relm and tossed the pouch to her.

With a twirl of his arrow, the dwarf greeted them, “How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service.”

And though she hardly knew it just then, her whole world opened up in that moment.

Varric, as she learned, was quick with a story and had an implacable amount of charm. He spun the most ridiculous stories and made them sound plausible. Relm ate them up, staying up well past midnight over many nights listening to his tales. The Hanged Man became her new stomping grounds as she came to talk with Varric. Conversations that usually started out all business inevitably led to lighter topics as they exchanged anecdotes and stories.

He offered her his expertise, his crossbow, but most importantly, companionship. Carver kept her at an arm’s distance, and Gamlen and Leandra were rarely great company. Aveline was a good friend, but sometimes she felt more like an overbearing sister. But with Varric, she never grew tired of talking with him, and while he offered advice, he never coddled or pushed.

She idly wondered if there was such a thing as soul friends, people whose souls just meshed well together. Souls who shared a bond, perhaps not as poignant or powerful as one shared with a mate, but still strong in its own right.

She suspected Varric would laugh at the notion.

“Hawke.”

Caught daydreaming, Relm lifted her head up and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Long day.” She took a look at her drink, contemplating whether or not to finish it before she went home.

“That’s an understatement.” Varric sighed and leaned back into his seat. “You had a witch in your pocket for, what, a year? Magically summon her, pay off a debt, and somehow ended up going home with an elven blood mage. All in one day.” He shook his head. “You put the ‘pro’ in productive.”

Relm smiled as she thought about Merrill. Blood mage or not, she liked her. She needed a friend, and it seemed Merrill could certainly use one as well. “But she’s so sweet.”

“I know. Gives me a toothache just thinking about it.” He laughed to himself. “Hopefully she’ll do okay here.”

Merrill’s absent-mindedness and tendency to ramble worried Relm. Her being an apostate endangered her as is. “So long as she doesn’t mention being a mage, using blood magic, having a magic mirror…”

“How is she even going to _hide_ that?”

“No idea. I don’t think she even knows how to get to the market yet.”

Varric groaned.

Relm looked over at Varric, watching to gauge his reaction as she added, “And Maker help her if she opens her mouth about soul mates around here.”

He lifted a brow. “You think she buys into it?”

“Don’t the elves openly accept it as part of their religion?” So Relm had always read in the stories. It was just another part of their way of life that separated them from the humans and the Chantry.

Varric nodded, his brow creased in thought as he picked up a quill and twirled it through his fingers. “Then she’ll learn to keep quiet. Kirkwall certainly isn’t the most open-minded place when it comes to that.”

His reaction told her nothing. She decided on a more direct approach. “And what about you?”

“ _Me_?”

Relm rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. What do you make of it?”

“Hawke, dwarves can’t dream. That part in and of itself boggles me, let alone the idea of two people’s souls being halves of a whole, that there’s one person we’re meant to be with.” He examined the quill. “If it’s spirits in the Fade giving people these dreams, then you gotta wonder _why_ they’re doing it.”

 _And of course, we’re taught that spirits are never here to help._ Relm hardly blamed Varric for thinking that way, especially given his being a dwarf. She knocked back her drink and stood up. “Spirits are a suspicious lot. Doing their… spirit-y things,” she joked. At least, she hoped she sounded joking.

“You’re not going to leave without telling me _your_ thoughts on it, are you?”

 _Wondered if he was going to ask._ Relm hesitated. She knew better than to openly admit it. Her own family hardly believed her, if at all, nevermind expecting a dwarf she’d only known a short time to do so.

Finally, she simply shrugged. “A nice thought, but one I wouldn’t get my hopes up over,” she said before waving to Varric and turning to leave.

It wasn’t entirely a dishonest answer because, by this point in her life, she’d given up hope on ever meeting Fenris.

With each passing week, he felt more like a far off fantasy. Even if she ever did strike it rich, she had no way of finding him. Her dreams afforded her no details. He lived a life on the run with no home, while she remained trapped in her new one. He cut his way – maybe going south, she hardly knew – and left a trail of bodies in his wake. Not that she was really much different; she just kept hers to a more confined area.

She huffed out a defeated sigh as she walked home through the mildly chilly Kirkwall air. _I have to face it. I’m never going to meet him. He’ll always just be a part of my mind, and nothing more. But as long as he’s free, I’ll be happy._

It had to be enough. She would not drown in disappointment over what could have been. Life taught her to take what she could and be happy with it. In Lothering, she had the luxury of being able to daydream and plan for what-ifs. Here, reality was crueler. She and her family faced destitution if something was not done soon. There was no room for soul mates. She would never get to go to Tevinter – or wherever he was - and they would never be together. Her life would not be like the stories her father used to tell her. She’d be nothing special, or so lucky as to get to meet her mate.

But she could live with it. Despite losing Lothering, she had found a new life here, and new friends. That was something.

_It has to be enough._

Her heart ached with the resignation, but she shoved it away as she opened the door to her uncle’s home.

And there stood the man, examining a letter closely. One that Relm could see was addressed to her.

She huffed as she strode up to him and snatched it from his hand.

“Hey-”

“It’s mine, and it doesn’t have any coins.”

Leaving him muttering to himself, Relm tore open the letter and read it over.

Meanwhile, Carver poked his head out. Noticing his sister intently reading a letter, he asked, “Anything good?”

She nodded. “It’s from Athenril. Some contact of hers named Anso is looking for help with a job. We’re to meet him in Lowtown tomorrow night, at the bazaar.”

Her hands clenched, and suddenly she felt unsteady. A spike of anxiety – or was it anticipation? – shot through her. Everything fell out of focus, save for the persistent thought of how much she needed to take this job.

“Relm?”

She blinked, forcing herself to work past… whatever was going on in her head. “Yeah?”

“We taking it?”

“Yes! We have to.” The answer came from her in a rush, her words coming hurried and almost unbidden. She quickly added, “We – we can’t afford not to, no matter how shady it sounds.”

Carver regarded her suspiciously. For all that Carver kept his distance, he still knew his sister. And she could see it in his eyes: he noticed something was off.

“Right,” he finally said after a long pause. “At least it’s something.”

“We’ll grab Varric and Aveline. Or maybe Merrill.”

The mention made Carver duck his head, almost bashfully. “Yeah. Might be good, if Aveline’s on patrol.”

His reaction piqued Hawke’s curiosity, but she let it slide as Carver ducked back into the other room. With him gone, she looked back down at the letter, wondering where that odd sensation from earlier came from.

 _Fenris?_ She feared something had happened to him, but this wasn’t the same feeling she had had when his master had come back for him. Though she worried, it didn’t warrant seeking out that spirit again, and it certainly didn’t warrant Leandra’s wrath a second time. She had promised, after all. Besides, it was nearly time for bed, and she was due for another dream.

Unbeknownst to Hawke, as she laid down in her rickety bed that night, it would be the last dream she’d ever have of her mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, Anso and the Bait and Switch quest. And we all know what that means...


	6. When Two Halves Converge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I am incapable of writing short chapters. But hey, Fenris finally shows up so I feel it's a fair trade. Thanks so much again for all the comments and kudos! Hope you enjoy!

Cautiously Fenris walked down a set of stairs, each step placed carefully. He peered around the bottom before he turned and strode up to a figure hidden in the dark. Murmured words were exchanged as the two kept to the shadows, out of sight of those milling around on the streets.

The other figure – a dwarf, judging by the size – nodded to Fenris. _“Yeah. This might work. I know who to reach out to. Leave this to me.”_

 _“You have my thanks,_ ” the elf said before handing him two sovereigns. He stepped out of the darkness and ducked down an alleyway. Worn pathways – _Have I seen those before?_ \- branched out in front of him, but otherwise the scenery remained shrouded in the usual fog of the dream.

When Hawke woke up, she could have sworn it looked like he was in Lowtown. The alley looked like one that ran by the bazaar. _But that can’t be._

Yet one thing was certain when she sat up in her bed: something was not right. The anticipation she got from that letter last night returned in force. But, Fenris was fine. So where, she wondered, was this coming from?

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the feeling. _Get a grip,_ she ordered herself as she got up to start her day. Other things required her attention, and she believed this gnawing, nagging feeling would go away if she ignored it. _Mind over matter._

Despite her efforts, it persisted. No matter what she did or thought, it refused to leave her. Worse, it seemed that as the morning stretched on – filled with her and Carver running about and trying to find work – the feeling grew more potent. Focusing became a chore.

At one point, Varric found them in Lowtown and came over to talk. He and Carver exchanged words, but no matter how much Hawke wanted to listen, she couldn’t. Her head buzzed and the words were drowned out in the noise. She flexed her hands and dug her toes into her boots. Her whole body felt wound. Tense, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Hawke?”

Relm shuddered and turned her attention back to Varric, who at this point looked a tad concerned.

“You with me?”

“Y – Yes.”

Carver huffed. “What’s gotten into you?”

 _I wish I knew, little brother._ “Just not feeling right.” She paused. “I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.”

Varric raised a brow. Carver looked just as unconvinced.

“ _I’m fine._ ”

 

* * *

 

By evening, Hawke thought she was going to lose her mind.

By the time she and Carver began to head to Lowtown to meet Anso, Relm had pulled at and redone her hair at least five times, cleaned the house, practiced her staff form, filled two pages in her sketchbook, and that was all on top of walking all over Kirkwall in search of work. And still, the nervous energy remained. She was all but running out the door with Carver when they left.

“ _What_ is your problem?” he demanded as they descended the steps. He tried to sound angry, but concern leaked through in his tone.

“I want this job to go right. We need the money.”

“Since when did you ever get so antsy about taking a job? Or about anything?”

Hawke’s fingers dug into her palms. She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

“What?”

“ _I don’t know,_ ” she snapped, her patience fraying.

Carver stopped, grabbing her arm to make sure she stopped as well. “Sister, look at me.”

She did, and in his eyes she could see signs of honest worry. If Carver was fretting this much, then her agitation had showed more than she realized.

Blowing out a sigh, she pulled at her ponytail. “I really don’t know. I’ve been feeling on edge since last night and I can’t shake it.”

“Then we shouldn’t do this.”

“No!” she said immediately. “No, we… we should. The thought of going is the only thing that’s helping. And we really can’t afford to not take this.”

When Carver looked unconvinced, Relm sighed. “Let’s just do this, all right? Then we can worry about what’s bothering me. If things are looking bad, we’ll get out. We’re good at surviving.”

“I know,” he said, letting go of her. “But I’m tired of just surviving. One day our luck is going to run out.”

Despite his words, he acquiesced to her request and let the subject drop. Though Hawke noticed, as they headed to the rendezvous point, that he was watching her closely.

Varric and Merrill met them halfway there. The dwarf yawned while the elf bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“Oh, my first job with you! This is so exciting!” she said.

Carver snorted. Relm elbowed him in the gut. “It’s all well and good,” the elder Hawke said, “until something goes tits up.”

“And something _will_ go tits up,” Varric said.

Like with many things, Varric wound up being right.

The job from the start sounded seedy. The nervous Anso asked them to retrieve some lost smuggled lyrium (“Isn’t _this_ just perfect?” Carver sneered). They took the job, because what other choice did they really have?

After being attacked by highway men in the streets, they came upon the house Anso told them the goods were being kept. They walked inside and naturally found themselves in an ambush. To top it all off, once they fended off said ambush and came upon a locked door (where they all rightly assumed the goods were) Varric almost got himself blown up when he unlocked the door. He narrowly escaped death thanks to quick reflexes and Relm throwing up a barrier in time.

Yet, despite their string of terrible luck, Hawke still found herself surprised when she opened the sole chest inside the locked room and found nothing.

“You’re shitting me,” Varric muttered, rubbing his arm where he had gotten burned.

Relm closed her eyes and counted back from ten. She heard someone – likely Carver – punch the wall in frustration.

“Let’s go tell Anso,” she said.

Merrill sighed in disappointment.

Still feeling on edge and now pissed off, Hawke shoved open the door to exit the house-

-and found herself facing yet another group of well-armed men and women.

Both groups stared at each other in shock for a moment. Then a woman – the ringleader by the looks of it – said something in a foreign tongue.

Merrill leaned towards Varric. “What language is that?”

Relm stiffened, realizing she recognized the dialect. So many in her dreams spoke it; the accent and the semantics were well known to her, even if she failed to understand what the words meant.

“Tevene,” she said, answering for Varric. “They’re speaking Tevene.”

The Tevinter soldiers suddenly pulled out their weapons.

“And I’m pretty sure they said something like ‘let’s kill them’,” Carver said before he grabbed his sword.

It was the third fight the four of them found themselves in so far. Relm’s body ached with the constant effort and beating it took. She breathed heavily as she sent a Stone Fist hurtling at one of the armored soldiers. Her legs spread to help support her sagging weight as her body tired.

Her nerves tingled as the last Tevinter fighter fell. Pursing her lips, she looked around to watch for any more attackers. Suddenly her head began to spin. An overwhelming feeling of urgency pulled her in a certain direction, and she felt absolutely compelled to follow it. Her heart hammered in her chest as she unwittingly headed for the steps leading out of the area.

A hand grabbed her and yanked her back. “Where are you going?” Carver said.

She barely bit back a snarl as she fought against his hold. “Let me…” Even as a part of her wondered what she was even doing, her soul screamed for her to _go_.

Luckily for both siblings, what likely would have resulted in a fight was interrupted when a man suddenly descended the stairs and headed towards them, armed in the same garments and armor as the other Tevinter soldiers. He glowered at them under his poorly cut bangs.

“I don’t know who you are, friend,” he sneered, “but you’ve made a serious mistake coming here.”

Carver tugged his sister back. Despite the urgency she still felt, Relm was able to at least reign herself in and push it aside, given the situation they faced. Staring down the man, Relm lifted her chin in defiance. Behind her, she heard her friends running over towards them.

The sneering man glanced over his shoulder and hollered for his lieutenant to bring everyone to the clearing immediately.

Hawke and company made a grab for their weapons, readying themselves for round four. Relm clenched her teeth, her limbs shaking for reason she could not figure out.

But rather than a horde of men coming at them, instead what they got was a pained gurgle from the steps behind the man. A soldier in a helmet came from around the corner, coated in blood. “Captain,” he gasped before he collapsed and fell.

A shadow loomed over the body as someone began to climb down the stairs. “Your men are dead.”

Relm gasped, almost dropping her staff as the source of the voice rounded the corner.

And there, at the top of the steps, stood her soul mate.

Unmistakable lyrium markings sprawled across his skin, at least what wasn’t covered by spiky black armor. Everything about his appearance lent itself to an image of someone to be feared, from the huge sword on his back to the wicked looking gauntlets on his arms.

Relm never felt so calm.

She watched in complete and utter awe as he came down the steps. Fenris said something to the stupefied captain, but she didn’t hear the words. Her attention focused instead on the appearance of the elf walking towards her, taking note of the details that had been a mystery to her for seventeen years.

_White hair. How was I supposed to guess that?_

He strode towards her until he stood just feet away. Her gaze met his when he lifted his eyes, a round pair of the prettiest shade of green she had ever seen.

There was no recognition on his part… or perhaps, not entirely. But there was _something._ His expression softened a fraction when their eyes locked, and he tilted his head as he regarded her. “Who…”

Relm smiled softly.

The moment was ruined when a hand grabbed his shoulder. The foolhardy captain spat, “You’re going nowhere, slave!”

Logically, Hawke knew what his markings were capable of. Yet nothing could prepare her for seeing them in action, with her own eyes. Her mate glowed blue as the lyrium lit up. He spun on his heel and lashed out his hand. With a sickening mixture of a crunch and squish, it tore through the man’s chest cavity. The captain’s eyes widened and he gargled. Fenris yanked his hand back, and let the body drop to the ground.

“I am not a slave,” Fenris spat, flicking his hand to shake off the excess blood and other bodily goo.

“You’re kidding me _,_ ” Carver muttered, so quiet even Relm almost didn’t hear it.

The interruption helped snap Relm out of her daze. She schooled her expression, though inside she remained in a state of shock. _He’s here. He’s really here and standing right in front of me._

Fenris glanced over at all four of them before taking a few steps away. “I apologize. When I had asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they’d be so… numerous.”

 _Slavers._ Relm scrunched her nose as she took another look at the bodies around them. _I finally got to kill a few myself._ “So everything Anso told us was a lie to get us out here,” Relm murmured. “Well, better to kill slavers than to smuggle lyrium.”

“Is that what he told you?” Fenris snorted. “Not a bad story. But perhaps it is time to reveal the truth on this matter.” He turned and faced her. “My name is Fenris.”

_I know._

“These men and women were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister’s lost property.” He sneered. “Namely myself.”

_I remember. And you’re not property._

But she nodded along and played dumb.

“That’s a lot of effort for one slave,” Carver piped up.

“It is,” Fenris said.

“Because of those markings?”

Fenris glanced down at himself, his brow furrowed. “I must look strange to you. But you are correct. These are markings made from lyrium. I did not receive them by choice. Even so, they have served me well. I would still be a slave without them.”

Relm bit softly on her bottom lip. She knew that was not the case, but this was definitely not the time to bring _that_ up. “Well, if they were seeking to recapture you, I’m glad we were able to help,” she said.

The elf looked surprised at the answer. “I… see.”

“So… all of this was for an empty chest?”

His ears drooped. “It had nothing in it?”

She shook her head. “Were you expecting something?”

“I should not have. It was too much to hope for.” He sighed. “It seems it was just bait.”

Before she could press for details, Fenris began to walk over to the dead captain. “But no, this was not for an empty chest. There’s more.”

As he knelt down and began to search his pockets, Relm felt a poke in her side. She turned and found Carver looking at her. He gave her a hard stare before he looked over at Fenris, and then looked back at her. His brow furrowed.

Words weren’t needed; she knew his question: _is this him?_ She nodded, barely perceptible and quick, but enough for Carver to see.

Fenris held up something in his hand. “I knew it.” His eyes locked on hers. “It seems my former master has accompanied them here to the city.”

Relm’s heart slammed against her chest. _The monster is in Kirkwall?_

Wasting no time, he got to his feet. “I know you have questions, but there is no time. I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help.”

Carver once again cut in, “I get the feeling you’re going to do more than just talk.”

“Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters that I have lost count.” His mouth pressed into a firm line. “Before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom.”

 _So the monster has a name._ He was still going to be “the monster” in her head, though. _And that also explains the chain._ Remembering it made her blood boil. Her hand clenched at her side.

“Ouch,” Varric murmured.

“So yes,” Fenris said, a deep scowl settling into his features. “I intend to do more than just _talk_.”

“…point taken,” Carver said.

“You hardly need to ask,” Relm said. “We’ll help you.”

Fenris’ eyes lit up a little. Relm felt a jolt of happiness shoot through her, glad that she made him as much. “I will find a way to repay you, I swear it,” he said earnestly.

He told her where he was staying, and urged her to come before morning. Determined to meet his predator head on, he turned and left without further word.

As soon as he left, Relm felt a strange emptiness settle in her. Sad, but it was at least more tolerable than the manic anticipation from earlier.

“Sounds like we got a long night ahead of us,” Varric said. “We better figure out who’s going to this.”

After a small debate, they decided that Merrill would go home, and the remaining three would hurry over to Hightown. Varric volunteered to see Merrill home and would meet the Hawkes at the mansion.

Once the dwarf and elf were gone, the Hawke siblings were left alone in silence. Carver suddenly jerked his head to the side, indicating an alcove near where they were that would afford more privacy. Relm assented and followed him there, suspecting she knew what this was about.

As they reached the alcove, out of eyesight and earshot, Carver leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Well… that just happened.”

“Yeah…” Her mind reeled from that whole encounter. Now, at least, she had a moment to breathe and take stock. “I… yeah.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw; a gesture of Malcolm’s, Relm noted with an internal smile.

“So. He exists.” Carver shook his head.

“You believe me now?”

“A little hard not to. How many escaped slaves with lyrium embedded into their skin are there in Thedas?” He regarded his sister, lips upturned in a sly smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “You might be the ‘great Hawke’, but even you can’t just conjure someone from your mind.”

She ignored the embedded insult. Honestly, she was just happy he finally believed her about Fenris. “Well, Father did say I’d meet him when I least expected it.”

“Is this why you’ve been acting so strangely all day?”

“I think so. I feel more normal again, at any rate.” She gently thunked her head back against the wall behind her, looking up at the stars above them. “I just can’t believe he’s here.”

“You had no idea?”

“No. I… thought last night’s dream looked familiar but it was too… vague to be able to tell.” Her eyes closed. “…I guess that means no more dreams.”

The stories always said as much. The dreams stopped when the mates met. It was a good thing, and yet, her heart broke a little at the thought, that she’d have no more dreams of being in his mind ever again.

“You sound… sad.”

“I guess I am a little. They’ve been a part of my life for seventeen years.” She opened her eyes and looked at Carver. “I’ve gotten so used to them. To them occurring, and to Fenris just existing in my mind.”

Carver considered her words, his expression almost thoughtful. “It will be strange. You’ve been having them for as long as I can remember. But at least it means no more potential nightmares, either.” Suddenly, his jaw clenched. “Since Fenris is real, that means what you saw was real. And given what you’ve seen…” He snorted. “Well, can’t say I’m going to be too sorry in helping kill this Danarius. He’s had it coming.”

“Agreed, little brother.” Relm smiled coldly. “I can’t fucking wait.”

 

* * *

 

Relm, Carver and Varric came around the corner, approaching the mansion in Hightown. Fenris stood vigil outside, leaning against the wall. He cut a striking figure, the dim moonlight reflecting off of his lyrium markings. His sword hung loosely on his back: a casual reminder of the danger he posed if he so wished.

 _Oh for – this is not the time to be ogling him._ Relm wanted to smack herself. _Kill the monster first, gawk at mate later._

“No one has left the mansion,” Fenris reported as he straightened. “But I’ve heard nothing within, either. Danarius may know we’re here.”

Hawke bit back a grin. She almost wanted him to know they were coming. She wanted him to sweat and be afraid in the last moments of his life. Between her and Fenris, he had plenty to be afraid of.

“Who is this Danarius, exactly?” Varric asked. “Besides someone who sounds like an asshole.”

“He’s a magister. In Tevinter, he’s a mage with power and influence.” Fenris pointed to the mansion. “Here, he’s just a man who sweats when he knows death is coming for him.”

“We best be ready for magical defenses,” she said.

“They won’t keep me from him.”

Fenris wasn’t kidding; despite the defenses that did await them in the mansion (in the form of hordes of demons, go figure), he cut through them, undeterred as they pressed further inside.

“Danarius!” Fenris shouted as they made it into the foyer. “Can you hear me? Your pets won’t keep me from you!”

Carver shot his sister a look, wrought with almost amused disbelief and a raised eyebrow. 

Relm glared back at him. “Not a word,” she muttered under her breath.

More demons awaited them in the other rooms as they continued to search for the magister. Despite how tired she felt, Relm said nothing of it. Her eagerness to confront the monster overrode any aches or pain she felt. Seeing him dead on the ground would more than make up for the effort.

“Found a key,” Varric said after they cleared out the fourth (or was it fifth?) room. “Might lead to that room up the stairs.”

“Then that’s where he is,” Fenris said, returning his sword to his back.

As they moved to head towards the room in question, Relm caught Fenris shooting her an uneasy look. Dread stirred in her gut as he looked away. _Maybe he’s just worried that Danarius is gone,_ she thought as they returned to the main hall. They hadn’t heard anything aside from a bunch of demons; he had every right to be worried. She certainly began to wonder if they had missed him.

Her fears were confirmed when they entered the locked chamber and found nothing.

“Uh…”

An unnatural screech from the main hall was her answer. She whipped around, staff out as soon as she heard it. “An Arcane Horror! Everyone on your guard!”

It put up quite a fight, not helped by the weariness weighing heavily on all four of them. Luckily, they prevailed. As the last demon fell, Fenris looked around, disappointment weighing on his expression.

“Gone,” he murmured, head hung. “And I had hoped… ah, it doesn’t matter now.” He glanced at Hawke. “Take whatever valuables you want. I… need some air.”

She nodded, letting him leave without a word. Frustration roiled in her gut. _Damn it. That nug fucking piece of magister shit!_ Her hands clenched her staff hard.

“So much for that,” Carver said. “Let’s grab what he left behind and get out of here.”

“Let’s,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve had enough of this.”

 

* * *

 

The early dawn air was a welcome relief after the stuffiness and stench of death the mansion carried. Relm rubbed at her eyes as she walked outside.

“It never ends.”

She paused, glancing over at Fenris. He stared off into the distance, not meeting her gaze. His mouth was set into a hard line as he continued, “I escaped from a land of dark magic, only for it to hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul.”

He turned his stare on her, grim and angry.

_…uh oh._

“And now I find myself in the presence of yet another mage.” He walked towards her. “I saw you casting spells inside. I should have known sooner what you really were.”

She stiffened, eyes wide and afraid. Guilt hit her hard, cold and unforgiving, though she was hardly at fault. _Of course_ he would dislike the fact that she was a mage. Maker, this is not how she wanted this to go. She didn’t want him to distrust her. She opened her mouth, trying to find the words.

“Tell me,” he said, arms crossed. “What manner of mage are you? What do you seek?”

 _You, once upon a time._ But now she had found him – or he found her, really – and it wasn’t like she could tell him that anyway. “I’m, uh… I specialize in primal and elemental magicks.” She knew that’s not exactly what he meant, but this is what he was going to get. She wanted to be as transparent as possible. “And a bit of healing. You learn to when you have two little siblings always tripping and falling.”

Fenris said nothing, his gaze still hard.

“As for what I seek? A way to help my family survive. We’re… not originally from around here, same as you. We came during the Blight and we’ve been struggling ever since.”

“I have heard many use the excuse of survival and wanting to get by to justify their actions.”

“I…”

Suddenly from her left Carver appeared. He stood in front of her, partly blocking her from Fenris. “Listen,” he said to the elf, jabbing a finger at him. “If you have a problem with my sister, you have a problem with me.”

It wasn’t often Carver rushed to her defense like this. Relm smiled a little, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” she said. She peered around him and at Fenris. “Did I do anything specific that made you uncomfortable in the mansion? Besides just… you know, generally being a mage and mage-y.”

His ears twitched as he looked away, considering it. “No,” he said after a moment. He looked back at her. “And I do not mean to appear ungrateful. That could not be further from the truth. Here.” He stepped towards her and handed her two sovereigns. “My promised payment.”

Relm almost told him to keep it, but she knew Carver would pitch a fit, and she really was in no position to be turning away money. So she took it with a nod of thanks.

“Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it.”

The offer was not expected. Relm paused mid-way in pocketing the coins. “You’re… sure? Even with my being a mage?”

“You are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen.”

A chance, that’s what he was giving her. To prove herself and show she wasn’t like the mages he knew. That was all she needed. _I won’t let you down._

“Fair enough,” she said, though it barely conveyed what she really felt. “What about Danarius? Will he keep coming after you?”

He smiled wryly. “It’s hardly me he wants,” Fenris explained. “He’s truly after my markings. They provided me the power he required of his precious pet. Now he wants his investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse.”

A not entirely pleasant mental image. One made worse by the thought of Fenris being killed. The suggestion scared her shitless; the fear clawed at her insides. _That will not happen. I won’t allow it._

Yet again, her feelings were too strong to voice to someone who technically she just met a few hours ago. Not to mention the conversation was getting a bit too dark for her tastes. She didn’t want to think about him dying.

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” she said with a little chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. “That would be a waste of perfectly handsome elf.”

_Oh, why did I say that? He’s going to get mad and –_

Fenris laughed nervously, the tips of his ears turning red. He quickly tried to cover it up by coughing, looking away bashfully.

The reaction pleased her, and assuaged her fears. Despite her being a mage, it seems it wasn’t quite enough to put him off. She grinned cheekily at him. “And as I am not one to waste,” she continued, “I do have an offer. I’m planning an expedition to the Deep Roads in the future, once I get enough coin. I could use your help.” And it would be a reason to stay within proximity to one another, and to get to know him.

“Fair enough,” he said, nodding. “I am at your disposal. I will be here, otherwise.” He gestured to the empty mansion. “For now, though, I am in need of rest, as I suspect you are.”

“Definitely. It’s been a long night.” At this rate, she’ll be sleeping until noon.

“Then I wish you a good night,” he said. “And… thank you, for your help. I did not expect Anso to find someone so competent. Or someone so willing to help.”

“You’re quite welcome. Good night, Fenris.”

She smiled as he turned and walked away, watching him until the door to the manor shut behind him.

Varric blew out a breath. “He’s going to be a barrel of fun.” He glanced up at Hawke. “Are you sure about this?”

Relm nodded, more sure of it than anything. “I am.” She glanced over at Carver, and read the concern in his expression. “I know, the whole distrusting mages thing is a bit of an issue, but what can I say?” She grinned. “I like a challenge.”


	7. A Talk and a Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relm works up the courage to talk to Fenris alone, and she makes Carver swear to a promise.

Seventeen years of wondering, of hoping. Now her soul mate was here in the flesh, and Hawke had no idea what to do with him.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. Years of daydreaming what it would be like when they met, and now she felt at a loss as to how to continue. Funnily, she never quite thought past that part. Their meeting fell far from how she expected it to go, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Two weeks had passed since their first encounter, and she had only a few passing conversations with him, and always with others around. They hadn’t had a single conversation alone. Carver often commented on how little she was actually talking to him, and as much as it irked Relm, she had to admit he had a point.

When she woke up on fifteenth day after meeting him, she swore to herself she’d have a genuine, deep conversation with him. The subject hardly mattered. Even if it were about the diseases of the common nug, it was better than not talking at all.

Carver stayed home, down with a cold. He tried to wave it off, but Leandra put her foot down. Relm shot him an apologetic smile as she left. With Carver out, her usual party of four had an opening. Along with Fenris and Merril, she decided she’d ask the newest addition to her growing circle of friends to tag along.

And that’s how she got to listen to a Rivani pirate flirt with her soul mate.

“I enjoy a man with markings like that,” Isabela purred, glancing over him.

Hawke bit back a comment. Isabela didn’t know what he suffered to get those markings.

“You've enjoyed many, I suspect,” Fenris retorted, looking away disinterestedly.

“Where I come from, they're called ‘tattoos.’ Sailors get them all the time.”

They bantered back and forth, Isabela commenting on the different types of tattoos that she had seen, and Fenris listening and nodding. Hawke envied Isabela’s ability to make casual conversation with anybody. Not that Relm was terrible at it; honestly, it was just Fenris she got hung up on.

“But I can’t say I’ve seen one made of lyrium. And not with that kind of imagery. It’s usually just breasts.”

“I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts tattooed onto my chest would make things better.”

Hawke snorted loudly, her hand clapping over her mouth to hold back the giggle. Now self-conscious, she looked over her shoulder at the pirate and elf, wondering what she would see.

Isabela was snickering, too. And Fenris? He smiled. Not an overly large one or anything, but it did seem a little… dare she think, pleased?

His dry, almost biting humor was just one of many things Hawke was slowly learning about him. Despite being in his head for so many years, she was beginning to realize that there were still a lot of details she didn’t know, his sense of humor being one (though his time as a slave, especially as Danarius’s, probably just smothered it).

His smile widened marginally, and that’s when she learned a new fact: he had dimples.

_Dimples. Maker, that is so not fair._

“Something the matter, Hawke?”

Her eyes widened at being called out. She shook her head, quickly turning away and staring ahead very determinedly. The rest of the walk was spent with her internally chastising herself for being caught staring at him. And since she was so busy doing that, she ended up hardly talking to him the rest of the time.

After the job was finished and they all went on their way to go home, Hawke wavered. She considered walking with Fenris, to take the chance to talk, but their paths laid in opposite directions. It made no sense to.

“Fenris, wait.” _No making excuses. Just ask._

He turned and faced her, posture relaxed as he slowed in his steps.

“Would you…” _No, don’t word it like that. Don’t make it awkward._ “I mean…” _Shit. Shit shit shit._

“Hawke?”

“I’m going to Hightown, actually,” she blurted out. “Remembered there’s someone I need to see. Mind if I tag along with you?” Not her smoothest recovery, but it would do.

“Should I mind?”

Hawke shrugged as she walked over towards him. “Well, you would be alone with a mage.” A gentle test, making sure it really didn’t bother him as much as she feared.

His ears twitched slightly: a habit of his when he was thinking on something, she also learned.

“You have still not shown me anything that would cause me to distrust you.”

“I’m glad.” She folded her hands behind her back and fell into step besides him. “Despite my reputation, I’m not terribly keen on people fearing me. Except my uncle, and only because he should be terrified of my ability to freeze his coppers into little blocks of ice. Then he has to melt them over the fire and he gets _wonderfully_ grumpy about it.”

Fenris shook his head. “You freeze his coin?”

“Only when he’s going to go spend it on something ridiculous. He once said he wished he didn’t spend his coin so poorly, so I’m being a good little niece and helping him break his habit.”

He stared at her for a long moment, clearly unsure as to how to take that. “That… is perhaps the most innocent misuse of magic I’ve ever heard of.”

“Misuse?” Hawke dramatically gasped. “I am just a woman helping her beloved uncle! Her poor, ridiculous, habit-forming uncle! What would you suggest I do that’s not misusing my magic? Set his hair aflame every time he comes home at 5 in the morning after spending the night at the brothel?” She paused, considering. “…actually, that’s not a half bad idea.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Do _not_ set his hair on fire, lest you want the templars finding you.”

“What, doesn’t people’s hair normally set on fire?”

He shot her a look as she snickered. Yet, despite her amusement, a part of her just felt relieved that he waved off her lighthearted attitude about using magic. She doubted he agreed with it, but he wasn’t preaching to her about how wrong it was.

Still, risking the topic of magic turning serious was not something she felt like doing today, so she changed the subject. She asked him about how he liked Kirkwall (“It smells and it is infested with crime.”) and if he managed to clean up the mansion yet (“No.”).

Though his answers were generally short, he hardly dissuaded her from continuing to talk. She struggled to come up with things to talk about, but he always answered when she did.

Before she knew it, they had arrived at his mansion. She hesitated outside the doorway, searching for meaningful parting words.

“I should, um, let you get inside and… do whatever it is you do in there, besides not cleaning.” She grinned teasingly at his scowl. “And I should… go meet up with… Aveline.” A lie, but it was the easiest one she could think of.

He nodded, bidding her farewell as he turned for the door.

_Ugh, that was a useless good-bye to him._ She mentally kicked herself as she began to walk away.

“Hawke.”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Fenris?”

“I… have not had company over yet. It is not something I am used to, inviting people over. I’ve never had that luxury.”

Though she knew it, it still broke her heart to hear him say it. He never had his own home before. Even the place he lived in now was borrowed, more or less. She hoped someday that would change.

He glanced nervously at the ground. “I would like you to come over tonight, if you wish. The mansion may not meet the standards of those in this part of the city, but it is habitable.”

She almost wanted to laugh, but held it back. She didn’t want him to think she was laughing at his offer. “I’d love to,” she said with a smile. “Would you like me to bring anything?”

After considering it, he shook his head. “No. Just yourself. I have wine in the cellar, and I will find food.”

“Then I’ll come by after dinner. Thank you, Fenris.”

He quickly nodded before turning and entering the mansion. Hawke let out a giggle once the door shut, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth. _Maker, you sound like a giddy teenager._ Even still, she couldn’t hold back her smile as she made her way to Lowtown.

 

* * *

 

After dinner was finished and the dishes washed, Relm immediately bolted to her room to get ready.

Since Carver was bedridden, she didn’t change out her clothes. She made do with what she was wearing, instead opting to fix up her hair.

“Where are you going?” Carver muttered from his bed, an arm draped over his eyes.

Relm turned as she pinned up her hair. “Going to Fenris’s. He invited me over as his first guest in his house.”

“It’s not really his house.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But it’s abandoned and he’s living in it, so close enough.” _Maker, why does he have to be such an ass?_

When Carver remained silent, Relm went back to finish getting ready to leave.

As she pulled on her coat and boots, her brother quietly said, “Are you going to tell him?”

Her movements stilled; her eyes kept locked on her shoes. “No,” she said. “I… haven’t decided when I will. If I will.” If she learned anything during her stay so far in Kirkwall, it was that many more people opposed the idea of soul mates than she ever imagined. It seemed too great a risk to tell him and possibly drive him away. Besides, her father never told her mother, and they still had a happy marriage.

Carver scoffed. “You’re really going to keep it a secret for the rest of your life?”

“Father did.”

He lifted his arm and stared at her incredulously. “Mother and Father were – of course they were. Why else would Father have believed in it so strongly?”

“He only told me because I asked him point blank. I doubt even Bethany knew.”

He scowled. “So because of that, you won’t tell him?”

“I told you, I’m not sure yet. Definitely not tonight. It’s too soon.” She finally looked up at him. “Promise me you won’t tell him anything. It should come from me, if he ever has to know.”

“Relm-”

“ _Promise._ ”

After letting out a long-suffering sigh, Carver nodded. “Fine, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Relm finished putting her boots on. “Feel better. I’ll see you later.”

 

* * *

 

She hardly knew what to expect when she arrived at the mansion. As she nudged the door open, she called out to Fenris, letting him know she was there.

He led her upstairs into the master’s chamber, where he had a fire going. She seated herself on the bench as he excused himself for a moment. With him absent, she took the opportunity to look around and take in the place in a way she hadn’t been able to before.

Not that there was much of a difference from the last time she was here. The same bloodstains and smears from their battle two weeks prior still streaked the walls and floor, though she noticed the immediate area around her had been cleaned, at least. In the corner she spotted a bed with pillows and blankets. That seemed neat and orderly; a stark contrast to the rest of the room.

Fenris entered the room, a bottle of wine in hand.

“Aggregio pavali. There are six bottles in the cellar.” He regarded the wine, tossing it up and down once in his hand. “Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed.”

In her collection of his memories, she tried to recall if she ever saw such an instance. Often Danarius’s friends would remark on his appearance. Some found him terrifying, and even some considered him revolting.

“You certainly can strike an imposing figure when you so want to,” Hawke remarked. Her expression softened as she looked at him. “I can’t see why they would be put off by it, though.”

“You certainly say what’s on your mind,” Fenris murmured. His voice heightened as he added, “But yes, I have noticed you have never been put off by my appearance.”

She shrugged. “The markings are different, I’ll give you that, but I don’t see anything that would deter me.” She jokingly added, “If you served me a glass of that wine, I’d be delighted more than anything.”

Something flashed across his face – confusion, skepticism, or perhaps disbelief – before he schooled his expression and chuckled. “What a strange woman you are.”

He glanced at the bottle, popping it open before taking a swig from it. Suddenly, his expression hardened and without warning he hurled the bottle at the far wall. Relm jumped a little in her seat as it shattered against the wall, spraying wine and glass in its wake.

“It’s good I can still take pleasure in the small things,” Fenris said.

Relm couldn’t quite decide _what_ that outburst was about. Frustration leaking through? Pent up rage boiling over? Unsure as to how to diagnose it, she instead said, “I guess I won’t be getting that glass after all.”

“There’s more if you want it.”

“Oh, but perish the thought! How else would you redecorate the walls? Maker knows they could use a splash of color.”

As stupid as the joke was, her heart still fluttered in joy as he laughed. Somehow, he brought out that dry, sarcastic part of her she often kept locked up. Varric did as well, but even he hardly managed it half as well and effortlessly as Fenris did.

Her happiness faded a touch once his laughter died, and his eyes trained their gaze on the fire. Something was eating at him, and she felt she should try and coax it out of him.

“Okay, and the real reason you felt the need to see a wine bottle introduce itself to the wall is…?”

She expected him to evade her question. Instead, he answered, “I wanted to leave my past behind me, but it won’t stay there.” He took a seat a ways from her. “Tell me, have you ever wanted to return to Ferelden?”

_Well, that was unexpected._ “I have no home left to return to. Lothering is gone.” She doubted her house still stood, but even if it did, it would hardly be the same without her neighbors and the town.

“The Blight is over. You could go back and rebuild. Do you truly not want to?”

“It’s not quite that simple. A part of me wishes to go back, yes, but my life is here now. My mother is originally from Kirkwall. Our heritage is here.” What was left of it, anyway.

“So you wish to put down roots here. I understand.” His ears drooped. “Still, to have the option… it must be gratifying.”

Here she paused, wondering how to proceed. She knew about his past, and what he had come from. She understood his envy. But she remembered her conversation with Carver, and she realized that she needed to act like she had no idea who he really was, to act like one would with a complete stranger.

Admittedly, she also wanted to hear about his perceptions of his life. So she asked about where he had come from.

His answers were short; the subject clearly was not one he wanted to talk much in depth about. He said nothing of his time with Danarius, and certainly nothing about his life before. His only mention of Seheron was, “There is nothing for me there anymore.”

The regret and utter guilt that laced his voice tore at her heart. _It wasn’t your fault._ She bit the words back, her nails digging into her palms. Maker, she wished she had the courage to tell him the truth. Then she could approach him about what happened and try to ease his guilt.

“Do you plan on staying in Kirkwall, then?”

“I could see myself staying, for the right reasons.”

“Those reasons being?”

“To be determined.” He smirked. “I have no plans to leave as of right now. Besides, I did offer you my services and help on your expedition. I will stay for that, at least.” He rested his chin in his hand. “And while I am thinking of it, I should thank you again for your help against the hunters.” Subtly he leaned in her direction. “If I had known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I would have asked him to look sooner.”

To her embarrassment, Relm felt her cheeks begin to burn. Hopefully he would think it because of the fire. She chuckled, partly to hide her blush. “It almost sounds like you’re about to ask me for a loan.”

“Well,” he said with a dry tone, “this mansion does require some upkeep.”

“Ha! You’re going to be shit out of luck there. But I can always help with the clean-up.”

“You and Aveline have both been on me about that.”

“Fenris, most people just need to dust now and then. Here you have corpses of demons in the guest bedrooms.”

“Nag.”

Now Relm really laughed, enough to make her shoulders shake. “You know, typically when one asks for a loan, they try to be a little bit flattering.”

He smirked. “It seems I need to work on that. Perhaps I’ll practice my flattery for your next visit. With any luck, I’ll become better at it.”

Another flutter in her chest, and now she definitely knew a blush was on her face. She looked down, biting softly on her bottom lip. “My advice? Practice with Isabela. I don’t think Aveline would take to it kindly, and Varric would probably laugh you out of the Hanged Man.”

“Duly noted.”

 

* * *

 

The cool air stung her cheeks as she walked home, but she hardly paid mind. She finally managed to have a decent conversation with Fenris, and she believed that they had grown a bit closer for it. Her being a mage still put a bit of a gap between them, but she knew that was one that she would not close in such a short amount of time. All in all, she chalked it up as a successful visit.

He definitely flirted with her a bit. It pleased her, perhaps more than it should, that he did. He might not know who she was to him, but clearly he felt something. She didn’t know where their relationship would go, but she couldn’t wait to find out. The whole walk home, she wore a smile. Her only regret was that she had to leave when she did. Tomorrow she had to track down the Grey Warden Varric dug up and see if he had maps to the Deep Roads. Hopefully he did and it wouldn’t come at too high a cost; they were due for a bout of luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, not much happened in this chapter, but I wanted to focus on Fenris and Hawke. I also wanted to put out something light-hearted, since the next chapter is going to be a doozy. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Disconnected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a soul mate doesn't come without its risks... and a price. Relm learns this firsthand.

“We are aiding a mage in escaping from the Gallows?”

Relm inhaled sharply through her nose as Fenris stared her down, his brow furrowed as a scowl pulled the corners of his mouth into sharp, downturned lines.

“Those were his terms,” she said, her voice level. “We need those maps.”

Beside her, Varric sighed. “Look, I’m not a big fan of the idea either, but it is what it is. One mage out of the Gallows, and that’s it.”

The Grey Warden – Anders, that was his name – almost hadn’t made the offer. She could still remember the look in his eyes when the idea struck him.

_He paced the floor of his clinic, adamant in not aiding them. “If I never have to see the blighted Deep Roads again-”_

_Then, he stopped. His eyes widened, and something bright shone in them. When he turned to face Hawke, she recognized it as hope. “Though, a favor for a favor. You help me, I’ll help you. Does that sound like a plan?”_

_Hope and desperation. Whatever he wanted, he wanted it badly._

Fenris shook his head, turning away as he stared at the fire crackling in his fireplace. “You would ask me to help free a mage, one that may be a practitioner of blood magic, and put the people of this city in harm’s way? For a map?”

Relm closed her eyes, fighting back the guilt. She hadn’t wanted to ask him, but he and Carver were their only true options. She wanted to explain that to him, that Isabela was off Maker-knows-where, that she didn’t want to risk Merrill being caught and tossed into the Gallows, that she couldn’t ask Aveline to risk her job as a guardswoman and future guard-captain for this. But when she opened her eyes and saw the anger in his, the words died in her throat.

“No,” she murmured. “I won’t.”

Varric looked over at her. “Hawke, assuming even Junior agrees to this, just the three of us and the mage-”

“I’ve fought templars before,” she said as she turned to leave. “We’ll manage.”

For her, it was more than just getting those maps. The worry and _plea_ in his gaze when he asked for this exchange of favors…

_“I have a… friend.” Anders looked away, the word hinting at far more than it let on. “A mage, trapped in the wretched Gallows. Part of the reason I came here was to free him. Help me get him safely out, and you can have the maps.”_

_“Do the templars know?” she asked._

_He nodded. “They found out about my plans to free him. I…” He swallowed. “The letters have stopped coming. I’m afraid of what’s happened.” He looked back at her. “I can feel it. Something’s wrong.”_

She had to help. She suspected this was more than simply rescuing a friend, and if her suspicions were correct-

“Wait.”

Relm stopped in her tracks as Fenris’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

He approached her, his strides long as he swung his sword onto his back. “I will not leave you to fight off templars with only one swordsman.” His expression screamed of disapproval as he reached her. “Let us hope I don’t come to regret this.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Anders met the four of them in front of the Chantry. Arms crossed, he immediately walked towards Hawke as soon as she came up the steps. “No sign of templars.”

She nodded, eyeing him warily. “And your friend?”

“He should be inside.” The mage flexed his hand. “When we get inside, let me do the talking. You keep an eye out for templars.”

“This is just great,” Carver muttered. “The templars will have our heads for assisting in a mage’s escape.”

Hawke sighed. “You could have stayed home.”

They walked in unison with him towards the Chantry doors. Anders let out a shaky breath. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

“Worried?” Hawke murmured.

He nodded. “Something isn’t right,” he said, echoing his words from earlier in his clinic. “Something feels off. I…” He cast a sharp look at Hawke. “It’s hard to explain, but I just – I know it. We need to find him, and quickly.”

As the doors creaked open and they stepped in, Hawke immediately began to look around. Though templars were often thought as huge lugs in shiny armor, she knew they could hide just as well as any rogue. She caught Varric doing the same, his hand gently resting on Bianca.

Anders led them up the stairs and to the right. Hawke’s senses tingled; they were right out in the open here. It left too many openings and-

“Karl!”

She whirled around to find Anders hurrying towards a man in an alcove off to the side. Karl had his back to them, staring intently at the wall.

“I knew you would come, Anders.” His voice rung out, hollow and monotone.

Anders paused just feet away from him. “Karl? Why are you talking like-”

When his fellow mage turned, the answer revealed itself on Karl’s forehead. Though she’d only ever heard about it, Hawke knew instantly what it was.

“ _Tranquil._ ” Anders shook his head, more and more rapidly as he took a step back. “No… No!”

“I was too rebellious,” Karl explain, his voice detached as he stared blankly at Anders. “The templars sought to make an example of me.”

“Karl, _please._ ” Anders reached out and gently touched his cheek.

“This is the only way for mages. You’ll see in time, Anders.” Karl looked over his shoulder and gestured. “This is the apostate.”

Hawke’s proverbial hackles raised as she whipped out her staff. Around her, her friends drew their weapons as templars approached them, swords and bows out and ready.

“No.” Anders fell to his knees, gripping his head. “NO!”

There was a flash of blue, eerie and otherworldly. Hawke’s eyes widened as cracks of light stretched across his skin, and a voice deep and booming rang out from his mouth, “You shall never take another mage!”

Relm dove out of the way as he wildly flung out streaks of lightning, hitting many of the templars. The smell of singed skin and hair filled Relm’s nostrils; she was forced to breathe through her mouth as the rest of the templars charged. Anders screamed in rage as he threw himself at them, casting magic left and right, when he wasn’t hacking at the armored men with his staff blade. The magic borne of his wrath scarred the walls, leaving charred streaks in its wake.

Of all the battles she’d been in thus far, none scared her quite as much as this one. And the templars weren’t the most frightening part. She’d never seen _anyone_ fling themselves at opponents like Anders did. His roars of rage made her hair stand on end. Even Carver and Fenris steered clear of him.

When the last templar fell, Anders straightened and blinked, reeling from what just happened. Relm eyed him warily, waiting to see what he would do next.

“Anders?”

He turned, eyes wide in surprise. Karl looked at him, but the vacant expression he wore earlier was gone. “What did you do? It was like you brought a piece of the Fade into this world.”

As Anders moved towards Karl, Relm caught Fenris shifting from the corner of her eye. Their gazes met. She noted with relief that he seemed relatively unharmed, despite the intense battle.

He jerked his head towards Anders and Karl. Following his gesture, she saw that Karl was pleading with Anders.

“I can’t do that, Karl,” Anders said, his fingers digging into his skin as he dragged them down his face. “I can’t-”

“ _Please,_ love.” Karl gripped Anders’s shoulders. “I’d rather die like this than live as a Tranquil, as a templar puppet. No matter what we do now, we’re cut off from each other forever.”

“I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t… feel you anymore. I should have known.” Anders bumped his forehead against Karl’s. “I’m so sorry, Karl. I’m so sorry I didn’t come in time.”

“But you came, and that’s what matters. I got to see you one last time. And I got to meet you and know you.” Karl smiled softly. “Not many can say that.”

Relm’s heart wrenched in her chest. Her suspicions had been right, and now…

Carver, in all his lack of tact, asked, “Wait, you two think you’re soul mates?”

Anders glared at him sharply. “We _are_.”

Gruffly, Fenris said, “You believe in lies fed to you by demons. Unsurprising, given your… state.”

Whatever Anders’s response was, Relm didn’t hear it. Fenris’s words occupied her mind entirely, slamming the pit of her stomach with shock. Admittedly, she shouldn’t have been surprised that he didn’t believe in soul mates. Yet, it hardly lessened the sting. Over a dozen years of dreaming about him, of wanting to find him, only to discover he thought the idea ludicrous.

“Hawke.”

Varric’s voice, and his elbow nudging into her side, brought her back from her thoughts. She swallowed her disappointment and looked over towards the arguing men. Carver stood silent, instead watching her carefully. She shook her head before she strode up to Anders.

“Argue this later,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. “We need to help Karl.”

“It’s fading,” Karl said. “Anders, you need to do it quickly.”

Turning from Fenris, Anders bowed his head in grief. “You’re asking me to… kill you. My other half. How can I _do_ that?”

“If it helps, I can do it,” Relm offered, her voice low. “I wouldn’t want to put that on you.”

For a moment, he considered her offer. He glanced between her and Karl, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, I should do it,” Anders murmured, pulling a knife from his belt. “But thank you.”

He fully faced Karl, knife hanging loosely at his side. Relm stepped back several feet, wanting to give them space.

Anders leaned in closely and whispered something in Karl’s ear. The other man nodded, murmuring something in reply. He smiled softly as he pulled Anders back, looking intently in his eyes.

Relm never heard or saw the knife go in; she only knew it did when Karl’s expression changed. He grimaced briefly before his knees gave out and he fell. Anders caught him, holding him tightly as he lowered Karl’s body to the ground.

The silence hung for what felt like an eternity. Anders stared at the wall, Karl still in his arms. He remained unmoved, completely transfixed in his position. Then, without warning he jerked and buried his head into the crook of Karl’s shoulder and screamed. Anguish and heartbreak poured out of him as his shoulders shook violently, his sobs muffled by Karl’s body.

Varric and Fenris kept looking over their shoulders, and Relm knew what they were looking for. They could not linger there long. Templars could come in at any moment. It was unfair to make Anders hurry, but they had no choice.

Quietly, she stepped next to him and knelt down. “Anders,” she whispered. “We have to go.”

“Then go,” he said, his face still pressed against Karl’s neck.

“You’re coming with us.”

“No, I’m not.”

Relm sighed. “Listen to me: this is not what Karl would want. He’d-”

“What would you know about what he wanted?” Anders snapped.

She pressed her lips tightly together. Her own temper flared, but she held it back. She knew his words were said in grief and pain. “More than you realize. Think of your patients. Who’ll take care of them if you’re gone?”

He stared, silent for a long moment. She feared he’d argue, though she would hardly blame him. The seconds ticked by, growing tenser as the quiet stretched. Just as she was about to say something, Anders nodded.

He looked back down at Karl and pressed a kiss to his forehead before he laid him on the ground. “Forgive me.” He stood up and stepped back, his hands shaking as he did so. Relm followed him and gently nudged him away, not wanting to give him the chance to change his mind.

The five of them left, slipping out of the Chantry before anyone could take notice.

 

* * *

 

None of them said a word until they arrived back at the clinic. Anders broke the silence, explaining to them about what had happened at the Chantry. Relm took note of what he said about Justice and the circumstances behind that, but she was more worried about his state of mind than that. Not that him being an abomination who could fly into a rage fueled by an angry spirit of Justice was anything to write off, but it seemed a more distant concern in comparison to his grief.

He gave them the maps, as promised, though it felt like an undeserved reward. Varric took them with a nod of thanks, rolling them up and tucking them under his arm. He and the other men made to leave, but Relm hung back.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she told them, looking back over her shoulder at Anders.

 Fenris scowled. “Hawke-”

“I’ll be fine. Carver, tell Mother not to wait up for me.”

Her brother hardly liked the idea either, given the matching scowl he wore, but he seemed unwilling to argue. The three men headed for the exit.

With them gone, Relm heaved out a sigh, steeling herself before she went to Anders. He looked surprised to see her still there. He stood and watched her, his lips pressed firmly together.

“If this is about Justice, I-”

“No,” Relm cut him off. “This is about you and Karl.” She hardly knew what to say, but she could all too well imagine what he felt. “I won’t ask if you’re all right. I just… wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything stupid.”

His shoulders sagged as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t, as much as I may want to. You’re right; these refugees need me. And Karl wouldn’t…”

“I’m so sorry.” Relm squeezed her upper arm; her mind too easily imagined herself in Anders’s place. The mere thought of losing Fenris gripped her entire body in dread. What _he_ must be going through… “You’re never going to be whole again. Nothing I could say can make that easier.”

His brow furrowed. “You… believe me?”

She nodded. It felt so strange to admit that to a man she’d just met, after having kept it a secret from so many. “Were you the dreamer, or was he?”

“I was.” Something in his countenance changed in that moment. Though grief still weighed heavily, judging by the lines on his face, his eyes seemed a little brighter. “…and you?”

“The same.” Relm leaned against the pillar next to his workstation and slid down, taking a seat on the floor.

Taking the hint, Anders plopped down next to her. “Didn’t think anyone believed in this city.”

“It seems anyone who does keeps silent about it. Can’t imagine _why,_ given the wonderfully open and understanding nature of this place.”

There was the barest hint of a smile on his face at her sarcasm. It might not have been much, but Relm considered it a victory – and a good sign.

“If it helps,” she said, “I’m willing to listen. About whatever – you, Karl, you and Karl… anything.”

It took him a few minutes to open up, after a few attempts to hold back tears and keep himself composed. But as he began to talk, he seemed to relax marginally, and the words came more easily.

 

* * *

 

For three hours, they talked. About Karl, about soul mates, and the dreams they used to have. Given the way he clashed with Fenris, Relm decided to withhold the identity of her mate; she was more focused on getting Anders to open up about Karl, anyway.

Anders stood up when the conversation wound down, stretching out his back. His eyes drooped close as he undid his hair tie. “It… Maker, the pain is unbearable, but you’ve eased it a little bit.” He glanced down at Hawke, and forced a small smile. “Enough, I think, to get me through to tomorrow.”

“And I’ll be back tomorrow, then.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Relm got to her feet, dusting off the dirt her breeches picked up. “It’s not often I come across someone who actually believes in soul mates.” _And I still am not convinced you won’t try and do something to yourself._

“True. You’ve been a little bright spot in the most horrendous day. Thank you, Hawke.”

“Anytime.”

They bid farewell. Anders returned to his station to clean up (and likely just keep himself busy), and Hawke headed for the door, intent to get home and sleep off the nightmare of a day.

Her strides were long as she emerged into Darktown proper. She kept her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself. In doing that, though, she almost missed the elf perched against the wall just a ways down from Anders’s clinic. It was only when he called her name that she stopped and looked.

“Fenris?”

He stood there with his arms crossed, looking as sharp as ever, despite the late hour.

“What are you doing here?” Relm asked.

He pushed off against the wall. “I do not trust that mage,” he explained. “But, as you seemed intent on consoling him, I waited to ensure nothing happened.”

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I wouldn’t have let him hurt anyone, Fenris.”

He looked away. “That is not all I was worried about.”

To her chagrin, Relm felt her cheeks heat from blushing. “You thought he’d hurt me?”

“Given what took place at the Chantry, I would not have put it past him.”

Though Relm had been far more concerned about his mental state then Justice, she also couldn’t deny that Fenris had every reason to suspect something could happen. “It’s something to keep an eye on. As long as he remains calm and nothing… majorly unjust happens in front of him, we’ll be dandy.”

“You treat it as a light matter.”

“I don’t, but there’s not much I can do about it. Other things occupied my attention, quite honestly.”

His ears twitched ever so slightly. “Do you believe him?”

She hesitated, biting softly on her bottom lip. An argument would be imminent if she told the truth, and given his stance on the subject, she feared driving another wedge between them.

“Does it matter?” She shrugged, hoping to play it off as nothing. “He’s hurting. He lost someone he loved. That’s hard, no matter what you believe.”

His expression was unreadable. She hated it when he did that, as she had yet to be able to determine if that was a good thing or not. She fought the urge to squirm; instead, his stare was met with a forced stern look of her own.

“You have a bleeding heart, Hawke,” Fenris finally said, his voice low. “Be careful who you bare it to.”

“I’ll do my best, but you know how blood likes to get on everything.”

This time he frowned, and Hawke wasn’t sure if it was at her terrible attempt at a metaphor, or the meaning behind it. Whatever his thoughts, he simply sighed and moved to her side. “Then I think it best I escort you home, lest you see another hapless being and feel compelled to help them.”

 

* * *

 

Hawke collapsed onto her bed, her eyes heavy from exhaustion. And yet her mind refused to let her sleep, still spinning from everything that happened.

Her heart went out to Anders. What happened to him was a grisly reminder of the risk one took when they met and shared a life with their soul mate. The Maker never guaranteed mates would meet, nor guarantee they would get to die side by side. How Anders was going to move on after that, she didn’t know. She simply admired that he seemed willing to try, as hard as it had to be.

Naturally, her thoughts turned to Fenris, and with them came a jab of pain. She chastised herself; after what Anders was going through, how could she complain? At least Fenris was alive and well, even if he would never accept her as being his mate.

_But he seems to care on some level,_ she consoled herself, remembering how he waited hours for her outside Anders’s clinic. Given how much he kept to himself and didn’t directly involve himself in others’ affairs, it was a sweet, if not unexpected gesture. Perhaps she was reading too much into it, but her gut said otherwise.

_He’s concerned with my well-being. That’s a good step. I’ll never be able to tell him the truth about us, but… at least I got to meet him. He’s alive. That’s all I ever asked for. It’s enough._ She sighed. _It has to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I am so sorry, Anders. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with it, so I'm curious as to how you, the reader, liked it.


	9. A Shelter in the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relm seeks refuge after returning from the disaster of the Deep Roads expedition.

Relm’s amusement was boundless as she watched Carver – a few ales and a number of shots in – attempt yet again to flip a copper into the glass full of ale. Naturally, given his state, it missed.

“Drink up!” Isabela said.

Carver let out a string of curses as he knocked back another ale. “You’re cheating. Somehow.”

“ _I’m_ hardly making you miss.”

“I can do this,” he slurred as he readied his copper again.

Merrill clapped excitedly. “You’ll get it this time, Carver!”

Anders shook his head. Yet Relm swore she saw a hint of a smile on his face. Another good sign for the still grieving mage.

Relm chuckled to herself as she quietly sipped on her drink, entertained by her brother and more assured by Anders’s progress. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Varric watching Carver with equal amusement. Their gazes met, and they exchanged delighted grins.

Something in the back of her mind pulled at her, and a slow trill of anticipation spread through her body. As if by instinct, Hawke turned towards the door. Moments later, Fenris walked in, draped in a tattered cloak. He pushed the hood off of his head as he glanced around, sharp eyes taking note of everyone in the bar and what was taking place.

Eventually his eyes met Hawke’s. He nodded in greeting as he worked his way through the crowd towards their table.

“Elf!” Varric said, leaning back and stealing a chair from a nearby table and bringing it around. He pushed it next to Hawke’s seat. She scooted over towards Merrill to make room for Fenris. “You made it! Blondie, you’re out twenty silvers.”

“Figures he decides to be social the one night I bet he won’t,” Anders muttered darkly as he dug into his pockets.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” Fenris said as he slipped off his cloak and draped it over the back of his chair.

“You came in for the good part,” Relm assured him. “Carver is attempting to win at Coppers. So far, he very much isn’t.”

Her little brother glowered at her under his furrowed brow. “I’ll get it eventually…” he muttered as he flipped his copper. It hit the rim of the tankard before bouncing and rolling off the table. “Maker’s fucking balls!” he snapped.

“Case in point.” Relm took another sip from her drink. “He’s going to be a joy tomorrow morning.”

One of the tavern girls came over and brought Fenris a drink. Fenris stared down at the liquid, his brow furrowed. “Despite what Isabela and Varric insist, I do not think I can stomach drinking this long enough to acquire a taste for it.” He pushed the drink towards Hawke.

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“You are drinking it, are you not?”

“I’m _acquiring_ the taste.”

He chuckled. “Then have more to help in your acquisition.”

“Unlike _someone_ ,” Relm shot a look at her brother. “I am, in fact, trying not to give myself a raging hangover in the morning. One of us needs to be somewhat presentable when facing Bartrand.”

Fenris turned towards her, the subject bringing out a more pronounced frown in his features. “You are certain you do not want me to join tomorrow?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s that Bartrand is limiting how many people I can bring.” Negotiating to even bring along four people had been like pulling teeth. “Varric has to come, and myself. Anders can sense darkspawn and knows the Deep Roads-”

“ _Lucky me,_ ” he cut in with a glower.

“-and Carver and I have been trying to get our way onto this for months. It wouldn’t be fair if I left him behind.”

“I understand.” Fenris paused, considering something. “Be cautious. There is no shortage of tales about the horrors and dangers that lie in the Deep Roads.”

Her heart warmed. “It almost sounds like you’re worried about me.”

The tease hardly went over well, judging by his scowl. “It would simply be a waste for you to go and try and claim a fortune, only to die in the process.”

“As long as either Carver or myself makes it out-”

“I do not think your mother would entirely agree with that notion. Has she not already lost one child?”

Flashes of the memory of Bethany’s corpse shot across her mind. She remembered it strewn on the ground, broken and battered. Her stomach clenched.

“I am sorry.”

Relm blinked, and found Fenris looking slightly apologetic. “What?”

“You looked distraught. My intention was not to make you relive what happened. I… apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She tried to smile it away. “Mother will fret, no doubt, but she won’t lose a second child. Not on my watch.”

Her words ended that conversation. Carver’s antics and a few rounds of Wicked Grace pulled their attention away from each other. When the night drew to a close, they bid farewell, both wondering how different things would be when they next met.

 

* * *

 

Nearly seven weeks passed before they saw each other again, and not in a way either of them ever expected.

Most of Kirkwall slept that dark winter night. Its lesser elements milled in the shadows, most wanting to be unseen. But one figure walked alone, well in sight. Relm Hawke shook hard from the cold as she listlessly made her way through Hightown. In fact, Hawke hardly realized where she was going until she found herself on a familiar doorstep. She took the moment to lean against the wall and give herself a moment to rest. _Why am I here? I should just go to the Hanged Man and try to-_

Her head snapped up in surprise when she heard the door open. And equally as surprised to see her was Fenris. He was out of his armor, donned in only a loose tunic and worn breeches. His hair was tousled – more so than usual – and Relm realized that he must have just woken up. _Why did he wake up? I don’t think I was loud…_

“Hawke?”

She gulped. “Fenris.”

Without warning, he stepped back and jerked his head, gesturing for her to come in.

Despite feeling like she was trespassing, Relm complied and walked inside. Though the mansion was mostly unused, it was still warmer than outside. Her shivering lessened as Fenris led her further in.

“Why are you out so late?”

“I do all my best thinking at one in the morning.”

Fenris stopped in his tracks and shot her a deadpan look.

Her shoulders hunched. _Just tell him. He’ll find out eventually._ Steeling herself, she began, “I… got kicked out.”

“Your uncle forced you to leave?”

“No. My mother. Uncle Gamlen actually fought her on it.” She shrugged. “It didn’t seem worth the trouble, so I left anyway.”

“I see.” Fenris looked at her with suspicion. “Why did you come here?”

An understandable question, even as much as left Relm in an uncomfortable position. She didn’t have a good answer, not one that would make sense to him. “I don’t know. I just wound up here after walking around Kirkwall for a while. Once I warm up a little, I can go to the Hanged Man and see if I can’t get a room.”

“That is a long trek.” He gestured to the master’s bedroom, the sole room he occupied. “As you are already here, stay for the night. I can make a bed for you.”

Her lips parted slightly in shock. “You-”

“My hospitality still requires some work, but I will do what I can. You already look half frozen to death.” A beat. “And it smells marginally better here than at the Hanged Man.”

Relm didn’t know what to say. The best she managed was a smile as she followed him into his room.

He tossed a blanket to her and pointed at the fireplace. “Sit.”

“Yes, sir,” she joked, wrapping the blanket around her and plopping down in front of the fireplace.

Fenris disappeared into another room. Moments later, he returned with a bottle of wine. Relm heard the distinct _pop_ of the cork being removed. He knelt down next to her and held out the bottle to her.

“Why exactly were you thrown out of your home?”

Relm took the bottle, but left it be for now. She opted instead to stare at the fire, head resting on her knees. “Carver is gone. The Wardens took him; if we’re lucky, they’ll be able to save him before the taint kills him. If not, I’ve lost my only other sibling. And my mother her second child.”

“And she demanded you leave because…?”

“Because it’s my fault. She begged me not to take him, but I did, and now he’s gone.”

 

* * *

 

The last she saw of her mother before the expedition, she was quietly praying that her children would survive this trip. Both had refused to let Carver stay behind, despite their mother’s pleas.

_Forgive me, Mother,_ Relm thought as they departed Kirkwall. _But we both need to do this._

Still, despite her convictions, guilt gnawed at Relm the whole journey to and through the Deep Roads. The company of her companions and fighting off the creatures that lurked in the Roads were the only distractions she had from it.

“Have I ever mentioned,” Anders piped up as they made their way down a side passage, “how much I hate the Deep Roads? Because I really do.”

_What I wouldn’t give right now to know a silencing hex._ Instead, she merely looked over her shoulder at him and frowned. “Have I mentioned how much money we’ll be making off this? Your clinic would benefit nicely from it.”

“Which is my impetus for being down here,” he muttered. “That and darkspawn detector. Which, speaking of,” He pulled out his staff. “we’ve got a few heading towards us.”

Seeing and fighting darkspawn again brought back awful memories for Relm. She was certain it was the same for Carver, but neither sibling hinted at their discomfort as they took care of the tainted monsters. When the battle ended and they resumed their journey, Relm and Carver exchanged quick looks. Their expressions spoke volumes: _we’re not dying to the darkspawn, too._

“Let’s keep moving,” Carver muttered. “The sooner we find this supposed treasure, the better.”

“Any plans for if we do strike it rich?” The question was mostly asked in teasing, but Relm did honestly wonder what her brother’s plans were. He’d been restless as of late.

A long silence stretched after her question was posed. Behind her, Relm could hear Varric and Anders slow their pace, putting distance between them and the Hawke siblings.

“I don’t think there’s a place for me in this future you’re envisioning,” Carver finally answered. “Nor in the one Mother dreams of having, this… heritage she wants to reclaim so badly. Me, a noble? Some rich ponce with too much time and money on his hands?”

“ _Ouch,_ Junior.” Apparently, not _that_ much distance.

“My point is…” Carver shook his head. “There is no point. Let’s just go.”

Relm let the subject drop, regretting bringing it up. Once they returned home, Carver would figure it out. She’d help, if he’d let her. Likely not, she thought with an inward smile, but that was just how Carver was. Despite how crazy he drove her, she wouldn’t have him any other way.

 

* * *

 

Fenris quietly regarded Hawke as she paused to take a breath. “What do you think he would have done?”

“I really don’t know,” she murmured, taking a drink from the wine. “Part of me wonders if he even knew. He… once talked about joining the templars. Said they would take in just about anybody. There he could do some good, he said.” The conversation still chilled her, even in memory.

“That seems like a conflict of interest.”

“He never cared for the mages’ plight,” Relm explained. “He grew up on the run because of his sisters and father. He and Mother were the odd ones out in the family. They had no magic. He never was as close with Father because of it.”

Fenris hummed under his breath. “Resentment, then. Still, he had it better than he ever knew. The luxury of privilege, even one as ‘mundane’ as having a family.”

“Perhaps.”

“You still have not explained how he came to have to join the Wardens.”

Relm sighed.

 

* * *

 

Bartrand betrayed them over a lyrium idol and left them for dead. The four of them fought their way back to the surface. Luck returned to them when they found a road that led to the surface, but they still had a week’s journey ahead of them. The trick was to get there before hunger caught up with them.

_At least we came upon a treasure horde,_ Relm thought dryly as they began the long trek into the darkness. _Some comfort._

Carver panted heavily. Relm turned around and found him clutching his side.

“You wounded?” she asked.

“Just a scratch. Stings, though.” Carver straightened up. “It’s fine. Let’s get home. Mother’s got to be worrying herself into a frenzy as is.”

They continued on, pressing for the surface. Their bellies ached and their water casks dried up. Weakness began to set in, and the threat of a darkspawn attack hung over their heads at all times. Those immediate issues clouded another growing problem, one none of them realized until days later.

Trudging on, Relm began to ascend a set of stairs until she heard a loud thump from behind. She turned, and her stomach dropped when she saw Carver collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“Carver!”

She ran to him, ignoring the ache in her limbs as she slid to a halt next to him.

Dark markings stretched across his face. His eyes looked as if they were carved into his skull. His skin took on a terrible pallor. Relm knew these symptoms: Blight sickness. Cold dread froze her body, and her mind went blank with fear.

Anders knelt next to her. Immediately he winced, knowing just as well as Relm what happened. “He has the taint. It must have gotten into his wound.”

Carver closed his eyes. “I’m not making it out of here.”

His words pulled her out of her stupor. “You are _not_ dying down here.” Relm clenched her teeth. “Anders, please tell me there’s something we can do.”

“…actually, there may be.” He rubbed a hand over his chin and jaw as he began to explain that he got the maps from another Warden, a man named Stroud. “He should be here, not far from our location. If we hurry, we can catch up to him. Becoming a Grey Warden is the only way to stop the taint from killing him.” A beat. “Well, right away, anyway.”

Relm grabbed Carver’s arm and slung it over her shoulders. “How does it work?”

“I can’t say, only that it’s irreversible once he does it. But it’s his only chance.” Anders stood up. “Come on. I think I know where they might be, if I read these maps correctly.”

It took almost a half day before they found Stroud and his men. Even then, initially he stubbornly refused to take Carver with them. It took Relm threatening Stroud (which admittedly probably didn’t work) and Anders persuading him before he reluctantly took Carver.

Even though it meant saving his life, Relm found it impossibly hard to let him go and hand him to the Wardens. Stroud warned her she may never see him again. Her heart ached terribly at the thought, but it was a pain she had to endure.

“This is it, then.” He slumped as the Wardens helped him stand. “Take care of Mother,” Carver said to his sister. As he began to walk, assisted by the Wardens, he paused and glanced back at his sister. “And Relm… don’t live in a lie your whole life.”

With that, the Wardens carried her brother off, his fate to be determined. Relm swallowed hard, fighting back tears as her brother disappeared further into the Deep Roads. _I’m so sorry._

She said the words out loud without realizing it, as Anders answered, “It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you for what you did.” She offered a smile. “You saved him. If you hadn’t come along, I…” Maker, she didn’t even want to think about that.

“I owed you.” Anders gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, but at least now he has a chance.”

Varric rubbed a hand over his face. “This could barely have gone worse. At least we found something worth bringing back.” He looked at Hawke, his expression grim. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about this.”

She shook her head; Varric had tried to help her and her family. No matter how this turned out, she couldn’t fault him. “The decision was ours. Carver knew the risks.” She sighed. “But Mother…”

 

* * *

 

“I think it is safe to assume your mother did not handle the news well?”

Relm snorted indelicately. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

 

* * *

 

When Leandra heard the news and broke down crying, Relm futilely tried to comfort her. Leandra shoved her away.

“I begged you not to take him!” she snapped. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

Relm recoiled from her. She flashed back to that day in the barn, when her mother chewed her out for sending herself into the Fade to talk to the spirit. Her mother wore a similar look as then, though now there was less fury and more grief in her eyes. Guilt flooded her; she felt like she would drown in it.

“He wanted to go. We both knew-”

“You both knew nothing! Not a thought was spared towards me!” Her hands covered her face, muffling her sobs. “My poor little boy. I’ll never see him again.”

Relm offered, “We don’t know that. If they get him to their camp in time, he may very well survive-”

Leandra seethed. “I would barely call that surviving! He’ll have to spend his life as a Grey Warden. No family, no home. Just wandering and killing darkspawn!”

“What do you want me to say, Mother?” Relm shot back. She slammed her fist into the floor. “I did the best I could! At least he may not be dead! At least-” _At least I survived._ But it didn’t seem to matter to Leandra. Relm looked away.

“Go. Get out. I don’t want to see you right now.”

The breath seemed to be sucked right out of Relm. “What?”

“ _Get out!”_

Gamlen, who until now had remained silent, finally stepped in. “Oh no you don’t, Leandra. You forget this is _my_ house. I’m not going to stand by and let you kick my niece out into the cold.”

“Gamlen-”

“You lose a child and your idea is to kick the remaining one out? Are you that caught up in yourself that you don’t see how ridiculous you’re-”

Relm got to her feet. “It’s all right, Uncle Gamlen.” Coming to her defense eased some of the sting Leandra’s words left. He cared. She was glad someone in her family still did. “Let’s make this all easier on ourselves.”

Without another word, she turned and headed for the door. She ignored her uncle calling out after her. Her body tensed itself in preparation for the cold air outside. As the door swung close behind her, she heard Gamlen snap, “I hope you’re satisfied, Sister.”

Hawke pulled her coat tighter around her as she wandered onto the street. Tears threatened to break loose again, but she willed them away as she let her feet carry her into the city, her destination unknown.

 

* * *

 

“And that’s how you wound up with me,” Relm said, her smile bland as she took another drink. “Soon to be rich and now homeless. Figures, really.”

“Your mother will change her mind come morning. She spoke out of grief and misdirected anger.”

Relm, wisely, did not point out that Fenris was guilty of this himself. At least with the misaimed anger. Nonetheless she appreciated his point.

“If she forgives me.” It felt like a big “if” right now. “Then again, she managed to forgive me about Bethany. Perhaps forgiveness over Carver will come in time.”

She felt him staring at her. Her hair covered most of her face, acting as a protective veil as she glanced over at him.

“I do not doubt Leandra will. But I wonder if _you_ will you forgive yourself?”

The question dug right into where it hurt the most. The words tumbled out before she could stop them, “Probably not.”

Most would argue that she should, that she needed to let it go and not blame herself. Not Fenris. He simply nodded, something a little sad in his eyes as he looked back towards the fire. His expression – a scowl, lighter but more pensive than the one he usually wore – spoke of understanding and weary familiarity with the feeling.

So no, he did not comfort her or try to make her change her mind. He just sat with her, sharing the bottle of wine. Relm hardly knew how long they stayed like that, talking for a few minutes at a time before long bouts of silence resumed. At some point, she had curled up on the floor and fallen asleep. She woke up briefly, just before dawn, and found a pillow tucked under her head. Something about the gesture almost made her cry; she chalked it up to exhaustion and willed herself to go back to sleep.

When she woke up that morning, her back slightly stiff, she sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It took her a moment to register where she was. A snort snore pulled her attention to the far corner of the room. There on the bed was Fenris, stretched out with an arm dangling off the side.

_Funny,_ Relm noted as she studied him. _I thought he’d sleep with his clothes on._ He was very much shirtless, though the bed sheet covered most of his chest. Still, she was afforded a portion of sight of his chest. Her eyes traced the lyrium markings that embedded his left breast and side. The patterns were beautiful. What she wouldn’t give, though, to wipe them away and see him unmarred.  

A smile pulled at her lips. _He looks peaceful._ A very rare sight when it came to him. His hair hung over his eyes, their closed gaze aimed in her direction. _Was he watching me,_ she wondered, _or watching_ over _me?_ She hoped for the latter, as selfish as it felt, though she wouldn’t blame him if it was the former.

Still, despite whatever reservations he likely had about her magic, he allowed her into his home. When she needed someone the most, he was there. She hadn’t wanted honeyed words and assurances; she had wanted someone to understand. And he did. No matter what the day held in store for her, she felt far less burdened than last night. _Thank you, Fenris._

Unbeknownst to her, there in the brightening morning, on the floor of a dilapidated mansion, the first tendril of love wrapped itself around her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, folks. We'll see Carver again.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed by that ending. But #yolo, I guess. Anyway, thanks for the reviews and kudos from last chapter! I loved them all, and I look forward to hearing thoughts about this chapter. We're finally moving out of Act I!


	10. A Step and a Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to intensify between Fenris and Hawke, and Anders introduces Hawke to a rather radical group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this chapter is late, and I apologize for that. It's been a mix of real life getting a little nuts and this chapter just giving me some trouble. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Fenris scowled at Relm, arms crossed as he regarded her in the foyer of his mansion. “No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No.”_

_“Yes.”_ Relm shook her head, cutting off further retort as she gestured with the objects in her hands. “It isn’t the evil that you seem to make it out to be.”

His ears twitched as he stood in silent indignation.

Relm sighed heavily. “Fenris, come on. We’ve had this discussion how many times now?”

“And I stand by what I have said in each of those conversation.”

“Cleaning will not kill you.” She shifted the objects in her hands – a broom and dustpan – until they were situated more comfortably. She hoped he’d offer to take them, but he seemed resilient in his stance. As if she should have expected anything else.

“This is my home.”

“And it needs to be cleaned. Desperately. If you won’t do it, then I will.”

“ _Hawke-”_

She pointedly ignored him and his exasperated voice as she set off, broom and pan in hand. “I’ll start with your room, since it’s the one occupied the most.”

She knew she was toeing a thin line here. Though he’d come to trust her more and more over the past few months, this was still pushing his patience. But his home reeked, and she feared that the neighbors would soon complain, and that would mean a visit from the seneschal. No doubt the man would evict Fenris without a second thought, and the elf would be homeless. So to Hawke, this was all for his own good.

_The joy of being a soul mate to a grumpy, uncleanly elf,_ she thought with a shake of her head.

As soon as she reached his room, she began to sweep. The dustpan was set down elsewhere until she needed it. The bristles scraped against the floor as they picked up dirt and dust; she coughed as she accidentally inhaled some. The scratch of the bristles suddenly reminded Relm of her old home in Lothering. It brought to mind a memory of Bethany sweeping up the floor. It had always been her job to sweep. She used to hum while she did it.

Relm’s hands clenched the broomstick hard as she tried to fight off the unbidden memories and homesickness. _Get it together,_ she told herself. _Bethany’s gone. Don’t dwell on it._

Barely perceptible footsteps emanated from behind her. She turned and found Fenris standing hesitantly in the doorway. She dared not to speak, afraid her voice would crack from the onslaught of emotion her memories stirred up.

Luckily, he didn’t speak either. Instead he merely stepped inside. To Relm’s surprise, he had some rags in his hand. He took one, leaving the others to settle on an old armoire, and began to dust off the furniture.

She watched for a moment, stupefied at this unexpected sight. Before she thought it through, a question tumbled out of her, “…do you dislike cleaning because of your time as a slave?”

His actions slowed, and then stopped.

Relm regretted asking and was about to apologize when he said, “Danarius did not usually make me clean. I was his bodyguard, meant to intimidate and protect. He would have seen it as beneath me.”

She didn’t remember him ever making Fenris clean much either, save for one or two rare moments. However, he _did_ clean quite a lot before he went to Danarius. When he was still…

_L-something._ The name continued to elude her. She wondered if she would ever be able to recall it.

“Perhaps it is something I dislike from my time before I received my markings.” Fenris stared hard at the floor. “It is a distaste I have never been able to definitively attribute to anything.”

She nodded. “If so, I am sorry for forcing it on you. I just didn’t want your neighbors-”

“I know,” he murmured quietly. “I must keep up appearances. Or at least reduce the smell.” He sighed through his nose. “You were thinking of me. I did not mean to appear ungrateful. Thank you.”

The thanks made her smile. “No need. Truth be told, this is all just an elaborate excuse for me to play maid for a few hours.”

The joke, however terrible, did its job and lightened the mood. Fenris snorted as he regarded her. “You do look the part,” he commented.

“Please, I’d hardly call this a maid’s outfit,” Hawke said, gesturing to her clothes: a loose shirt with a few holes and a pair of old breeches.

“But they are suited for cleaning.” Fenris’ eyes roamed over her form. His expression softened to thoughtfulness as his eyes finished their tour. “I’d wager it’s as close as you’ll get.”

Her whole body felt alight when he took in her appearance. The attention, though unexpected, was quite welcomed. In a fit of bravado, she went to the dustpan and very deliberately bent over at the waist to place it on the ground. She took her sweet time setting it down. After a moment, she dared a glance over her shoulder. To her satisfaction, Fenris was still watching her, eyes slightly widened as he stood there, seemingly mesmerized. He snapped out of it when he noticed she was looking, and he immediately turned to go back to work.

_You’re abhorrently immature,_ she said to herself, and yet she grinned in triumph as she went back to sweeping. That had been her most daring bit of flirtation yet, and satisfaction mingled with relief. With Fenris, it was always about stepping carefully. She was still a mage, and she suspected she hadn’t entirely won his trust yet. But it seemed safe to say that he liked her. Better yet, there was definitely a sense of attraction, if his roaming eyes were any indication.

She stole another look over her shoulder, watching him as he reached up to dust off some shelves. His tunic covered most of his back, but she could see the muscles behind his shoulders pulling taut. The hem of his shirt rose a bit from the stretching, and she silently begged it to bunch up a little more.

Fenris cleared his throat. Hawke’s eyes snapped up to find him looking at her. _Shit!_ She jerked her head away and kept her eyes on the ground.

She swore she heard him chuckling under his breath. _Bastard._ She smiled slightly.

That was how they spent the next hour, cleaning and stealing glances. It became a strange game of sneaking in looks, the goal being to avoid being caught, and yet hoping at the same time they would be. If nothing else, it helped pass the time, and made the cleaning a lot less monotonous.

In between rounds of this unspoken game, Hawke’s thoughts wandered, mainly on the room’s other occupant. Things had been progressing slowly between them, a pace which Hawke surprisingly did not mind. Partly because she knew it was better for him. She may have “known” him for years, but he only met her months ago. And she knew how slow he was to trust, to open up. It took him weeks before he felt comfortable enough to drink around her and the others. Even now, he still did not always show up when they gathered at the Hanged Man. He needed to do things in his own time.

The other reason she was glad for the slow pace was for her own sake, too. In the stories her father told her, the soul mates usually tended to leap into a relationship as soon as they realized they were bonded. It always scared her a little; the thought of opening up entirely to someone right away unnerved her. That didn’t change after she met Fenris.

Because the truth was, though she’d visited him in dreams for seventeen years, there were still aspects of him she was still getting to know. Seeing him for a couple hours in a dream every one to two weeks did not make her an expert on everything Fenris. And there was a difference between being in his head and interacting with him face to face. He still managed to surprise her, even now. Just the other day she discovered he hated fish. Even the smell made his stomach turn, according to him. And just before, when he told her about his considerable dislike of cleaning: that was new to her.

She wiped idly at her brow, ignoring the sweat dripping off her face. _Maker, would he open a window?_

The momentary disruption barely slowed her thoughts. She continued to chew over her considerations, despite the heat.

A part of her wondered if it was normal for her to have so many gaps in her knowledge about her soul mate. Yet, she posited that here, in Kirkwall, he found himself in an unprecedented situation: having a home and being surrounded by friends, who would help him against Danarius. Safety in numbers afforded him a chance to be more himself, and not the subdued man his time with Danarius had made him. Something which, while Relm was extremely happy about, also rendered a rift between what she knew about Fenris and what she was learning about him here.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard rustling. She stopped mid sweep when she looked around to find the source of the noise. Her eyes bulged when she realized it was Fenris taking his shirt off. Her mouth almost dropped.

“It’s getting a little warm in here,” he murmured, not even looking at her as he tossed his shirt towards his bed. He paused dramatically, darting his eyes to her with a raised eyebrow. “If you do not mind, of course.”

_You cheating bastard,_ she thought, her throat going dry. She quickly cleared it and shook her head. “There’s, ah, always the windows, too. Opening them, you know. To get a breeze.”

A smug smirk tugged at his lips. “A wise plan, though I always fear the smell will waft towards the nearby buildings. But perhaps that will not be so much the case if it is just this room.”

As he walked over to the nearest window to prop it open, Relm unabashedly stared at him. As much as she hated to admit it, his markings were beautiful. _He_ was beautiful.

_Maker, I could look at him all day,_ she thought as she watched him open the window. This time she got a perfect view of his back and the muscles running taut, however brief it was. And this time, when he turned back towards her, she did not look away. If he was going to show off so shamelessly, then she was going to enjoy it with as little shame.

Something dark flashed across his expression, something that made Relm’s gut coil pleasantly. His steps were slow and deliberate as he made his way towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. Without thinking, Hawke softly bit on her bottom lip as she waited in anticipation. The move made Fenris pause just a few feet from her. Brow furrowed, he said nothing for a long, drawn out minute. Relm felt the silence press down on them, threatening to crush them both.

Then, very tentatively, he crossed the distance between them and reached up, running a thumb across the dip in her chin. Softly, he said, “Is there no one else who has your attention, Hawke?”

“I don’t see anyone else here,” she quipped back.

“Mm.” He regarded her seriously, his thumb still smoothing out the skin on her chin. “I’m a runaway slave, with nothing to offer you. That… does not bother you?”

The notion almost made her laugh. She might have, if it were not for the way her body seemed wound, like a band ready to snap at any moment _._ “No. Does my being an apostate mage bother you?” She paused. “Aside from your generally disliking magic.”

“You’ve still given me no reason to distrust you.” He shrugged. “It is always in the back of my mind, I will not deny that. But you are different. So no, I suppose it doesn’t.” His thumb brushed against her lower lip. “Still, I see your point.”

Relm held her breath. The tension in the room was thick and heady. Her body itched with the urge to fill in those last few inches between them, fill it with their bodies pressing together and his lips on hers. Subconsciously, she tilted her head up towards him: an open invitation.

Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming pull, much like the one she felt that day, right before she met Fenris. His breath hitched; whatever it was, he felt it, too. He dipped his head towards her. She could feel his breath ghosting over hers. Her head buzzed, and every thought but ones of him were drowned out in the noise. _Please…_

With a shake of his head, Fenris stepped back, letting his hand drop. “Perhaps next time,” he said. “We should finish up here.” Without further word, he stepped around Hawke and strode out of the room.

Relm blinked, her mind reeling from shock. _Shit, that must have spooked him._ She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to shake off the wound up feeling she had from the encounter. Maybe it was for the best; if Fenris was not ready, she could not force him. Neither could his own soul, if she understood what had happened correctly.

Still, she huffed in frustration as she turned to where he left. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum,_ Fenris,” she muttered.

 

* * *

 

When she opened the door to her home – the old Amell estate now, not her uncle’s little hovel – she had certainly not expected to see her mother running towards her, letters in hand.

“He’s alive!” Leandra cried out. “Your brother has written to us.”

Her earlier frustration from her encounter with Fenris fell to the wayside as relief surged through her. “Oh, thank the Maker,” she let out in a rush of breath as she hurried to her mother. “Is he all right?”

Leandra nodded. “He seems well. The Wardens have accepted him in their ranks. Which reminds me: here.” She passed a small letter to Relm. “He sent one for you as well.”

Relm took it with a nod of thanks and hurried up to her room. She opened the letter, her eyes racing across the words in anticipation. For what, she hardly knew, but whatever she expected, she didn’t see it. The more she read, the more her heart sunk. Nothing was said about that day in the Deep Roads. Carver wrote that he hoped Relm was doing well, and then went onto describing the boring scouts he was sent on. Nothing in the way of what he was actually doing and where, but enough to get across how mundane his task was.

A dry read, until the end.

_“Thanks to you, I’ll be camping out in this nice little swamp for the foreseeable future. Enjoy the weather in Kirkwall.”_

The blame in his words raked across her heart. As if she didn’t hate herself enough for what happened.

“ _Thanks,_ Carver,” Relm spat. She tore up his letter and threw the pieces at the ground. But as she stormed towards the door, she paused and sighed. _Damn it._ Immediately she went back and picked up the pieces, gathering them together with the intent to put them back together later.

Leandra knocked gently on Relm’s door. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, fine,” Relm said as she tucked the letter (in all its bits) out of sight. “Just wanted to give his letter a read.”

“Did he say much to you?”

Relm shook her head. “Not really. I don’t think he’s allowed to tell us much. It sounds like he’s north of here, but I could hardly guess where.”

Leandra nodded, hovering in the doorway. “You’re probably right. They’re a secretive order. I’m glad he’s doing well and making the best of such a situation.”

Whether or not her words were meant as barbs or not, Relm didn’t know. But they hurt all the same. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk. “Yes.”

She winced, realizing the edge of steel her tone carried in that one word. Her mother noticed it, too, as she said, “What is it?”

“What _is_ it?” Relm spun around, the need to accuse and vent her hurt rising up through her chest. “Between you and Carver, you’d think I enjoyed what happened to him, that I don’t-”

She cut her tirade off when she spotted Bodahn hovering behind Leandra. “Yes, Bodahn?”

He smiled apologetically. “My pardons for interrupting, but while you were gone, one of your friends stopped by. Serah Anders? He asked you to come see him when you had a chance.”

The chance to avoid a fight was one she could not pass up. She already had said too much. “I’ll go right away. Thank you.”

She turned and grabbed her staff, swinging it on her back.

“We’re not finished, Relm,” Leandra said, her voice hard as she blocked her path. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing that matters,” she bit out. Immediately she mentally cursed herself for not having a better grip on her emotions. “You and Carver have made up your minds and I’m not going to change them.” Her strides were long and sure as she gently pushed past her mother.

“Relm-” Leandra reached out towards her.

“Don’t wait up for me” was all Hawke said as she pushed her mother’s hand away, making a beeline for the door and refusing to look back, even as her mother kept calling out to her.

 

* * *

 

“You look ready to hurl a fireball at something,” Anders commented as they met in a secluded alley in Darktown.

Relm shrugged.

He gestured for her to follow him, and led her down a path that led to the deeper underbelly of Darktown. “Your mother giving you a hard time again?”

“Sort of. Carver wrote to us.”

Anders lifted his brow in surprise. “Did he? Well that’s… good, isn’t it? He’s alive.” He paused and frowned. “How did she find a way to turn that against you?”

“Same way she always does: by beating the dead horse when there’s hardly anything left to beat.” Her eyes remained trained ahead of her, watching as the beaten road wound its way down. “Wasn’t just her. Carver thanked me for having to do boring scouting missions and being stuck in the wilderness. He hoped I would enjoy the weather in Kirkwall for him.”

“Your family’s passive-aggressiveness continues to inspire,” Anders said dryly.

Relm snorted. “Carver’s hardly passive about it. But Mother? Oh yes, she can be when she wants to.”

Anders shook his head as they came upon a trap door. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, he lifted it up. “Hop in.”

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked as she hopped down.

She stepped back, leaving room for Anders to land. After he came down, he shut the door above them, making sure it was latched with a good tug. “There are some people I think you should meet. Hawke…” He faced her, his expression grim; she could tell, even in the relative darkness. “Who we’re going to see, and what will be discussed… it can’t ever be spoken about outside.”

_Oh, that’s not ominous or anything._ Despite her reservations, she nodded and continued following him down the dark corridor. With Anders, she suspected any secret he wanted her to keep was going to involve something either very illegal or very dangerous. Or probably both.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he finally led her into a room off the passageway. Inside, they were approached by two men, both large and physically intimidating. Relm immediately noted the staves on their backs. _Mages?_

The man on the left glanced between Anders and Relm. “We don’t suffer trespassers here.”

Relm lifted up her hands, signaling she meant no harm.

Anders sighed. “She’s expecting us.”

From the back, a voice drifted towards them. “He speaks the truth. Let them through.”

As commanded, the men stepped to the side, allowing them through. Relm shot an uneasy look at Anders as they walked further into the room. Her anxiety swelled when she heard the door slam behind them.

A short woman with cropped blonde hair greeted them. “I take it this is your friend, Anders?”

“It is. Myrella, this is Relm Hawke.” He turned to Relm. “Hawke, this is Myrella. One of the leaders of the mage underground. And also, more importantly in this case, the leader of this merry band of people you see around us.”

Relm hoped Anders was making a joke, considering the stony expressions they were receiving. Swallowing back a comment, she nodded and merely said, “And who might this merry band of people be? Besides mages?”

“Not all of us are, but most are, yes.” Myrella inclined her head. “As are you, I’ve heard.”

“Anders,” Relm turned to him. “you said you didn’t want me involved with helping the mages-”

“Which I stand by as well,” Myrella butted in. “You’re well known, Hawke. We don’t need someone famous attracting the wrong kind of attention.”

Anders shook his head, waving at both of them to hush and let him speak. “It’s risky, I know, but Hawke could still help. In subtler ways.” He sighed. “The mage underground you should stay out of, for your sake and the other mages’ sakes. But this isn’t about the mage underground specifically, though it’s tied to it. These people… they’re like you and I. They know the truth. And they’re sick of it being condemned by the Chantry, for being ostracized and oppressed for what we know. And as an apostate mage with wealth, you may be in a decent position to help.”

“I get it now.” Hawke regarded Myrella and the group gathered around her. “I see the templars didn’t entirely wipe you out all those years ago.”

“They came close,” Myrella said, her jaw clenched. “Hunted us down like beasts and executed us.” She laughed bitterly. “For a group that denounces the notion of soul mates, they seemed to very much take it seriously. They used it against us. If they found a bonded pair, they only killed the one and left the other mutilated, body and soul. The halves left behind… most killed themselves.” Her hands clenched as she crossed her arms. “Bastards only had to do half the work.”

Relm hadn’t realized she was trembling until Anders put a hand on her shoulder. She swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry.” The smaller woman gestured to Hawke. “You hear about it, and it’s hard to not picture you and your own mate, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and yet, it wasn’t entirely the reason why. She inclined her head towards Anders. Myrella’s words reminded her of that day in the Chantry. She still heard Anders’s scream some nights.

Anders’s hand tightened on her shoulder.

“I heard.” Myrella’s gaze softened. “Thank you for saving Anders. For being there for him. We were too late for him and Karl,” To that, she offered a look of utter regret to Anders, “But we can still save others. Our mission is to make the world understand that the rhetoric of soul mates isn’t the work of demons, that it’s not mages trying to tempt the masses into blood magic or whatever.” Her earlier hardness gave away to determination. “It’s true, a lot of us are mages. But mages can dream more clearly and lucidly than the mundane folk. It’s easier for us to pick out the details in our dreams, and mages tend to be the dreamers in a bonded pair more often than not.”

“So, you help mages and by doing so, help a lot of those who believe soul mates exist?” Hawke queried.

“Those who _know_ they exist.” Myrella nodded. “But yes, it often goes hand in hand. Helping the mages escape the Circle often helps those who seek to find their other half. Yet our work isn’t just limited to mages. We’ve helped mundane people out, too. Mates who found each other but were forbidden from being together, torn apart by the Chantry or their families. Dozens have escaped from their oppressors thanks to our help.”

“Not to be a downer,” Hawke said with a little laugh, “but you do realize that the Chantry _really_ does not like someone telling it what not to do. You know, they just want to spread the Maker’s love and all. They like to send the templars in and brow beat that love into people, too.”

Myrella didn’t appreciate her humor the way most did. Anders rubbed a hand over his face as the blonde glowered at Hawke.

“I think what Hawke is trying to point out,” Anders cut in, “is that the templars are still a threat, more than ever.”

“I’m aware. But we’re not going about it the way we did last time.” Myrella beckoned to one of the others. “We wanted to spread awareness and bring more to our side. But that won’t work, not while the Chantry has the masses brainwashed.”

While the signaled member began to dig through a pack that was propped up against the wall, Hawke raised an eyebrow. “So… what? You’re going to bring down the Chantry? They’re not exactly fond of that, either.”

“Think beyond fighting, Hawke. We’re not stupid enough to challenge them directly. But if we discredit them, reveal them for what they are, the masses will do that for us. And it’ll start in Kirkwall.”

The scrummaging mage eventually found what he was looking for and handed it to Myrella. It was a single piece of paper, which she in turn gave it to Hawke. “If you want to help, start with this. There is a Sister by the name of Peatrice. Our contact in the Chantry suspects she’s up to something foul. While we don’t think it has anything to do with our cause, it’s still worth looking into.”

Hawke took the correspondence and looked it over. “Why? Because you suspect corruption?”

“More or less. This Sister is not fond of the Qunari. And like you said, the Chantry doesn’t like their authority challenged.”

_And some in the Chantry would see the presence of the Qun as such._ Hawke wanted to point out that the Qun took a harsher view to soul mates than even the Chantry did, but refrained. Because Myrella unnerved her. Something in the woman’s eyes and the relentless determination she sensed made her carefully consider her words.

“And this thread may lead to something else.” Myrella offered a smile. “It may seem like nothing now, but every little thing we do will help the cause in the long run. And anything is worth that. Being with our mates is worth _any_ cost. Don’t you agree?”

Hawke hated how much she wanted to say yes.


	11. Half-Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of uncomfortable confrontations and offered lessons.

Relm supposed that, if nothing else, Myrella had been quite right about Sister Petrice.

Yet as her face became forcefully acquainted with the ground, Relm decided that she really, _really_ needed to stop getting herself involved in everything. _Particularly where the Qunari are concerned_ -

She rolled out of the way as one of the Qunari threw his spear at her. It missed her by inches.

 _\- twice as much when the Chantry is involved_ –

The sten kicked her staff away from her when Hawke tried to make a grab for it.

_-and triply so when the two intersect._

An arrow whizzed over her head, striking the Qunari straight through the heart.

She looked over her shoulder, nodding in thanks to the newest member of her merry band of misfits, one Sebastian Vael: the most sincere do-gooder by far, and the only one who seemed to _enjoy_ going on these kinds of (mis)adventures. He claimed he liked helping people.

Hawke decided, with no shortage of hypocrisy, that something was wrong with him.

She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her staff and hurling a Stone Fist at one of the archers, knocking him down for Fenris or Isabela to finish off.

There seemed to be no end to the angry conga line of Qunari throwing themselves at Hawke and company. From the corner of her eye, Relm spotted Ketojan, the Qunari mage she’d been tasked to escort and the reason for the predicament they were in. He remained kneeling on the ground, unmoving.

_Have you no compulsion to do anything at all?_

“Hawke, on your right!”

She barely had time to react before the Arvaarad rammed into her. The tip of his spear caught her shoulder, cutting through the thin armor and piercing easily through skin and muscle. Instinctively she grabbed the spear to pull it out, but the soldier used the momentum to throw her to the ground and pin her.

He yanked the spear out of her shoulder, making to jam it into one of her organs. Hawke rolled away, ignoring the screaming pain in her shoulder as she kicked and crawled away from the soldier.

But he was quicker. He slammed his foot into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and effectively pinning her. Hawke struggled to breathe; the lack of oxygen was making it hard to concentrate and summon her magic. He lifted the spear, aiming for her throat.

A bone chilling roar came just mere seconds before Fenris tackled him, sending them both toppling.

Air rushed back into Hawke’s lungs as she sucked it down in heaving gulps. Over the roar of her blood in her ears, she barely heard the now familiar sickening crunch of Fenris ripping Maker-knew-what out of the Qunari soldier.

She rolled her head to the side, just in time to see Isabela sink one of her daggers into another Qunari. He was the last one to fall, collapsing into a silent heap on the ground.

“Hawke.”

She turned back and found Fenris standing over her. Bright green eyes raked over her form, pausing on her shoulder. His brow furrowed.

“I’m a’right,” Relm muttered. “Could you help me up?”

He nodded, extending a hand to her. She grabbed it with her good arm. He pulled her up effortlessly, the momentum almost knocking her into him. Forever aware of his usual dislike of skin contact, she backed away quickly, mumbling an apology.

“You have… nothing to apologize for.”

Before she could respond, Isabela walked over to them, sheathing her daggers. She hissed out a breath when she got a look at Hawke’s wound. “Got you good. Looks like we’ll be paying Anders a visit.”

“First things first,” Relm said, nodding to Ketojan.

She walked up to the Qunari mage, and was surprised when he spoke to her.

“I am… unbound. Odd. Wrong.” He looked at her. “But you deserve honor. You are worthy of following. I thank your intent, even if it was wrong.” He turned away, walking towards the edge of the cliff nearby. “I must return as the Qun demands.”

Hawke balked at his choice. “After all that, you’re just going to die?”

“I want to live by the Qun.”

“That means _dying._ ”

“Yes. Is that hard to grasp?”

Relm forced herself to inhale, then exhale, keeping herself composed. The pain fed into her temper, but she did not want to go off on Ketojan. Especially not if these were to be his last moments.

“Sister Petrice might-” She stopped, shaking her head in disbelief at the suggestion she was about to make. “Nevermind. That might be a fate worse than death.”

“I would not return to her. The sister was not honest. What she wanted, I could not say, but it is not the certainty of the Qun which guided her.”

 _Oh, I suspected the Qun “guided” her._ Relm nodded. “No. This was clearly a trap, judging by the nice line of bodies of your squad that led the Arvaraad straight to this spot.” That was going to result in a fun conversation with Petrice. “I don’t think she ever really wanted to help you. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be,” Ketojan said. “I knew her help to be false from the start.” He looked back out towards the sea. “There is only one path for me to take.”

Relm tried to convince him to live, to find another way. But her arguments fell on deaf ears. In the end, he thanked her before setting himself aflame. Relm backed away, coughing as the fire consumed his body, the acrid smell of burning flesh filling the air.

“So much for that,” Isabela muttered.

Sebastian shook his head. “A shame. May he reach the Maker’s side.”

Relm, clutching her injured shoulder, began to walk back towards the entrance to Undercity Warrens, wanting to just go back, deal with Petrice, and be done with the whole thing. Myrella would want to hear what happened. In the back of Relm’s mind, she wondered if Myrella knew what Petrice was going to do. _Have I been set up twice: once by Myrella, and again by Petrice? A trap leading to another trap?_

“Hawke.”

She stopped, Fenris’s voice bringing her head to look over her shoulder. Her gaze was met with his own, one set in suspicion.

“Why did you take this job?” he asked.

Trepidation set an uneasy tingle through her. _No, he can’t possibly know about that…_

She shrugged. “To help. One apostate helping another. I know you don’t like it, but it is what it is.”

By bringing up the subject of mages, she hoped to steer the conversation away from the truth and into something a bit more believable, not to mention something Fenris was often vocal about.

He shook his head. “You are hiding something.”

Her eyes widened, her stomach clenching from both guilt and hurt. “Have I done something to cause you to distrust me?” Maker, she hated lying to him.

Perhaps realizing the severity of his words, Fenris’s tone softened marginally as he said, “It is not that. But something does not add up. You have been wary of the Qunari, respecting the Arishok’s boundaries and giving them a wide berth unless forced to.”

“If you’re referring to my conversation with him after that incident with that elven fanatic and the poison, I was only trying not to piss the Arishok off.” Which was the leading factor in why she’d been avoiding the Qunari after said incident.

“Case in point. I doubt he would be pleased if he heard you were trying to aid in the escape of a saarebas _._ You’ve only involved yourself with the Qunari if it aided them.” His frown deepened. “Why the sudden change?”

The words got stuck in her throat, her mind freezing in panic and unable to form a lie. “I…”

Luckily, her saving grace came in the form of one concerned royal archer. Sebastian intervened, saying, “Perhaps this should wait until after Hawke’s injury is tended to. It’s been a trying day.”

Shame-faced, Fenris nodded. “Yes. I… apologize, Hawke. We should get you to that mage.”

Saying nothing, Relm let him walk ahead of her, clutching her shoulder tightly as she fought back tears brought on by guilt.

_Forgive me. But you can’t know._

 

* * *

 

While it hadn’t been a fight, it felt like one to Relm. Even almost a week later, she still felt guilt-ridden over the way that encounter had gone down. After Anders patched her up, she hurried home, and Fenris seemed willing to let the subject drop. But an awkward tension remained.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. She dipped her quill into the inkpot and continued penning her message to Myrella:

_When we pressed Petrice, she admitted that it had been a trap. Her goal was to paint the Qunari and by extension the Qun in a bad a light as possible. Basically, my friends and I were to be martyrs to her cause._

_So your suspicions were right. While it’s not embezzling Chantry donations or secretly worshipping demons, she’s not a good sort, considering she wants to create further conflict with the Qunari. Technically, the Chantry is supposed to be all for peace and not trying to start some religious war with the Qun. Apparently, Petrice skipped that day’s lesson. And also the lesson about how the Qunari almost kicked the entirety of Thedas’s ass in their initial invasion._

_What she is scheming next, I don’t know. But I’d continue watching her._

_\- R.H_

She sat back, letting the ink dry. _That should be enough to satisfy-_

“Hawke!”

Isabela’s voice cut through the air. Not expecting the pirate, Hawke turned around in her seat, befuddled frown in place as she watched the Rivaini stroll into her room, Merrill right on her heels. A few seconds later, Bodahn hurried after them.

“I’m sorry, serah, they insisted-”

Isabela clucked her tongue. “We didn’t want to give her a chance to escape,” she told him before turning towards Hawke. “You. With us.”

“Er-”

Isabela grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of her chair. “Come on. You’ve been moping for days. Kitten and I planned on poking around the market today. You’re coming with.”

Merrill smiled apologetically as Isabela all but dragged Hawke out of her room.

Relm tried to protest, but Isabela wasn’t hearing it. By the time they hit the front door, Hawke resigned herself to her fate. “Fine,” she said as she stopped trying to dig her heels in. “But at least let me get my coin pouch, won’t you?”

Isabela smiled in triumph.

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, they stuck to the markets in Lowtown. The one in the main part of town held little that interested any of them, so eventually they wandered towards the one in the Alienage. Isabela and Hawke received some odd, if not outright wary looks, but Merrill’s company kept any real questions at bay.

One of the last stalls they visited was a book vendor. Relm casually perused the selection, mostly indifferent to what she saw. She almost overlooked one dusty tome. By chance she looked back over it and noticed the title.

 _The Book of Shartan?_ She picked it up, wiping off its cover before gently flipping through the pages. It was clearly old, but still in decent shape. And she knew just who would appreciate it.

“How much for this?” she asked the seller.

“Twenty coppers.”

“That’s it?” Even as Hawke murmured the words in surprise, she dug out her coin and gave the vendor the money.

After the exchange was made, Hawke tucked the book under her arm, pleased with her choice. She couldn’t help but smile. _I hope he likes it._

She looked around, wondering where Isabela and Merrill were. She found the elf talking with the vendor’s assistant as they peered through a crate shoved under the stall. Hawke peered around the corner, trying to see what they were looking at.

The only clue she saw was a book whose title was mostly obscured from her, save for one word: mate. The assistant turned and saw Relm. Immediately she shoved the book out of sight. “M – May I help you?”

Merrill smiled reassuringly. “Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “That’s my friend. She won’t say anything.”

This was a familiar song and dance for Hawke. She simply let her eyes wander away, shrugging to herself. “Just looked like some boring book to me.”

She gave the two space and pretended to keep browsing through the books until they were done. As Merrill approached her, Relm barely saw the edge of the book peeking out from underneath her cloak.

“Come on,” Merrill said. “Let’s find Isabela and go back to my home. I should… get this somewhere safe.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as they were inside Merrill’s house, she took out the book and set off to find a hiding spot for it.

“Smart idea, Kitten,” Isabela said, taking a seat at the dining table. “A templar spots that, and you’re in deep shit.”

 _If templars come in here, that book will be the least of her worries,_ Hawke thought as she glanced towards the bedroom, where she knew Merrill’s tainted mirror stood, propped haphazardly against the wall.

“Is it true the Chantry is considering declaring the belief in soul mates to be akin to demon worshipping?” Merrill asked as she slid the book behind a panel in the wall.

“It’s what I heard,” Isabela said. “There on their list of All Things Evil, up there with blood magic and having fun.”

So had Hawke. The rumor came out of Val Royeaux a few months ago, and it was gaining traction. Given Kirkwall’s staunch opposition to the belief, it was met with approval across the majority of the city’s inhabitants.

It made Hawke want to hurl, honestly.

Merrill sighed. “I just don’t understand why.”

“Because the Chantry hates anything to do with the spirits or the Fade,” Relm said, leaning against the wall. “They see the idea of soul mates – of spirits connecting mates through dreams – as akin to communing with the spirits, even if dreamers have no choice in the matter. It doesn’t help many mages are dreamers, and we know how much the Chantry _loves_ mages.”

“Really? Even though they lock them in the Circles?”

Isabela huffed out a laugh. “Sarcasm, Kitten.”

“Oh. Right.” Merrill sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. “Anyway, the Dalish don’t think that way at all,” she said. “To find your soul mate is a momentous occasion. They even let adults leave the clan for a time to search for their mate, so long as they have something definitive to go on.” She shrugged. “They don’t like letting us go on wild goose chases. But still…”

Suddenly she glanced at Isabela. “Oh, I’m sorry, Isabela. You don’t believe in it all, do you?” She looked down at her hands. “A lot of people don’t like it being discussed if they don’t.”

Isabela played with one of her daggers, gently balancing it on her fingers. She shrugged at Merrill’s question. “Doesn’t bother me if you believe. I just find it a little too good to be true. Like, one person in the entirety of Thedas is your other half? Some person meant for you and only you?”

“Well, it’s the other half of your soul. Two people meant to form a whole.”

“So, our souls supposedly got split in half? Ouch.” She scoffed. “And how would that have even happened?”

“The Dalish have a story. They say that long, long ago, we lived happily. Everyone had a complete soul within them: two halves that balanced each other out.” Merrill took a seat next to Isabela as she continued, “The Creators watched over us, and all was well. But then, the war with the Forgotten Ones began. It brought toil and strife, but the people were able to withstand it, content with themselves.”

Across the room, Hawke remained silent, listening closely to Merrill’s story.

The elf’s expression sobered. “As the war dragged on, the Forgotten Ones were desperate for more numbers. They hatched a terrible scheme. They tricked the Creators, and lured them away from their people. With them gone, one of their own snuck in amongst the people. With terrible magic, he brought forth the full power of the Void and rendered in half every soul, both living and in the heavens. Every person was torn in two.”

“Double ouch,” Isabela muttered.

“Just after this happened, the Creators hurried back, having felt the power of this magic. In his haste to escape, the terrible Forgotten One only managed to sweep up half of the souls and separated them from their other half. He whisked them away, just before the Creators arrived.” Merrill’s tone softened. “Even with all their power, the Creators could do nothing to help the remaining halves. The damage was done. They would never be whole, and nothing soothed them. They cried out in terrible agony.”

She shifted in her seat. “Mythal screamed at the injustice that had been rendered. It’s said the spirits of the Fade, having heard her and felt the pain of all those souls, pressed against the Veil. They spoke to Mythal about what they had seen. The Forgotten Ones silenced and deafened the halves they took, so they could not hear or call out for their mates. But they said their minds were still open, and that they could help.”

Hawke knew where this was going. “So that’s why they do what they do?”

Merrill nodded. “Precisely. They swore to Mythal they would help bring the halves together. The deafened ones could not hear their mate’s cries, but the spirits could. They seek out the other half, and when they find them, they bring them together in the Fade, hoping to lead them to one another.”

“The dreamers… they’re the deafened and silenced ones, aren’t they? We don’t hear our mates, so the spirits have to do it for us.”

“Yes.” Merrill tilted her head to the side, eyes brightening. “I didn’t know you were a dreamer.”

Hawke’s eyes widened. _Shit._

Isabela raised a brow. “Somehow I’m not surprised. Pegged you for a believer.”

 _Double shit._ “Am I that obvious?”

The Rivaini shrugged. “You might not be as vocal about it as Anders, but I could tell you believed him. You never argued otherwise. And you always get this look when people shit on it, which happens everywhere in this city.”

Unsure as to what to say, Hawke uneasily turned the book she bought over in her hands.

Isabela laughed. “Come on, Hawke. Like I’d say anything.”

“Do you know who your mate is, Hawke?” Merrill asked.

Relm’s movements slowed. She hated lying, but she could not risk the truth getting to Fenris. “I… still have the dreams,” she said. It was what she told Anders; she needed to keep consistent in her lies. “He’s an elf, and I think he lives in the west somewhere. Hard to say.”

She dared to look up, and her eyes locked with Isabela’s. The pirate stared at her, searching her expression for a long moment. Hawke remained resolute, even as she could tell the other woman was searching for the lie.

Whatever Isabela’s conclusion was, eventually she relented. “You know, speaking of elves…”

Merrill’s ears twitched. Isabela chuckled. “Not you, Kitten. The broodier one.”

Hawke’s stomach clenched with anticipation. “What about him?”

“Don’t play innocent.” Ignoring Hawke trying to insist otherwise, she pointed at the book. “Present for him?”

Relm huffed. “Yes. Things have been a little… uneasy. I hoped this might smooth things over. And he would like to read about Shartan, I think.”

“Does he read? I’ve never seen him pick up a book.”

Hawke frowned as she tried to think back. Honestly, she pegged Fenris as the type to like a nice book. It was a quiet activity, and it didn’t necessitate dealing with people who irritated him. In fact, she found it strange he never read anything at-

 _Oh Maker, I am an idiot._ Relm’s mouth dropped slightly as the realization hit her. She’d never seen him read _anything._ Not even a flyer or a plaque or anything with words on it.

“What is it?” Merrill asked.

“Shit. I don’t know if he knows how to read.” Relm searched through her memories of her dreams, trying to recall if he ever read. Nothing came to mind. “I don’t remember – I mean, I don’t recall him ever reading anything. As a slave, he… might not have learned.”

 _You idiot. You got him something that he can’t even use. ‘Oh, here you go, Fenris. Have a book you can’t read!’_ Relm rubbed a hand over her face, feeling more moronic with each passing second.

Isabela tutted. “So? Perfect opportunity. Offer to teach him how.” She smiled, a shade of secrecy mixed with a shade of guile in her expression. “That way, he gets to learn and feel more like a free man, and you two get to spend more time together.” Her smile turned impish. “Play your cards right, and you’ll find yourself maybe teaching him a few _other_ things.”

Relm let out a little nervous laugh, though she admitted that she _did_ like the idea of it. “For one thing: ‘teach him a few other things’? _Really,_ Isabela? That was the best you could do?”

“Oh, hush. I can’t be the master of wit all the time. I’m not Varric.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “ _Anyway_ , Fenris and I are not-”

“I know, and that’s why you should get a move on that.” Isabela stretched out her legs, propping them on the table. “You don’t see how he looks at you. Or how protective he gets about you, Serah I-Have-Three-Qunari-on-Me-But-I’m-Going-to-Ignore-Them-and-Charge-at-the-One-Pinning-Hawke.” And she added with a mutter under her breath, “And leave the two rogues to deal with them instead.”

Relm’s toes curled in hidden glee. As reckless as it had been on his part, she couldn’t help but revel in the thought of him charging to her rescue. “He… must have seen I was in trouble. He just came to help.”

“And the scream of rage?”

“…he does that all the time.”

It was Isabela’s turn to roll her eyes. “Deny it all you want. Look, wherever you stand on the whole soul mate thing, you’ve got a pretty damn attractive elf who stares at your ass every time you walk and has a protective streak a mile wide.” Isabela gave her a discerning look. “Don’t pass that up.”

Hawke looked down at her book, chewing on her bottom lip. _She has a point, and if all of what she’s said is true, and if I’ve been reading things right… just maybe…_

The silence hung for a long moment before Merrill looked back and forth between them, finally blurting out, “I’m missing something dirty again, aren’t I?”

 

* * *

 

 _You can do this, Hawke,_ Relm told herself as she pushed open Fenris’s door. _Just be relaxed. Give him the book, and if your gut is right, offer lessons. The worst he’ll do is say no. Which… would honestly be kind of a let-down and hurt a lot…_ She shook her head, steeling herself. _No, it’ll be fine. Even if he just takes it, it’ll be enough._

She called out to him, holding the book behind her back as she climbed the staircase.

He peered out from behind the door to the master bedroom, surprise etched onto his face. “Hawke,” he greeted her. “I did not know you were coming.”

“Surprise visit.” She stopped. “Is this a bad time? I could… come back later.”

He shook his head, swinging open the door. “No, now is fine.” His brow furrowed a little when he noticed she had something behind her back. “What are you holding?”

With a smile and a bit of flourish, Relm brought the book around and presented it to him. “I brought you a gift!”

Tentatively, he took it from her. “It’s… it’s a book.”

That reaction all but confirmed her suspicions. “It’s a book by Shartan. The elf that helped Andraste free the slaves. You’ve heard of him, right?” _Please tell me you know about him…_

“A little…” He trailed off, looking somewhat embarrassed. Hesitation laced his tone as he continued, “It’s just that, slaves are not usually permitted to read. I never learned.”

 _Here goes nothing, Isabela._ “You know, I could teach you,” Relm offered. “It’s not too late to learn.”

“Isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder.”

She shook her head. “Not at all. It’d be a bit hard, I won’t lie, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

He stared at the book, his fingers tracing over the etched lettering that he couldn’t decipher. Relm imagined it must look like scribbles to him. Hopefully, that would change in time.

“I… if you are sure,” he murmured, looking up at her hopefully.

“Definitely.” There was no containing that beaming smile. In her head, Relm already began trying to plan out how she would go about this. _I’ll need to talk to Mother, see how she went about teaching us._ “How about we start tomorrow night? Around dinner time. We can learn in my study.” She paused. “Or here, if you’re more comfortable.”

He smiled wryly. “Your estate has all the books. And less of a smell.”

Relm sniffed and – yep, that was most definitely a stench. She sighed. “I _told_ you that room was going to get bad soon.”

He snorted. “I’ve been airing it out.”

“Fenris, there are at least three dead demons in there, and Maker knows what else from… whatever happened in this place before you moved in.” She was almost certain there were living organisms growing under the floorboards. “Just because we cleaned the master bedroom-”

“Which is the only room I occupy.”

“- _doesn’t_ mean that the rest of the place should go to shit.”

His tone was dry as a western desert as he said, “I begin to suspect you’re trying to civilize me. First the cleaning, and now getting me to read and write. Next you’ll be forcing etiquette lessons onto me and stuffing me into suits.”

Her lips twitched, part in annoyance and part in growing amusement. Keeping her voice level and her expression as serious as possible, she responded, “A little dining etiquette never hurt anyone.” She faked a considering smile. “And you would look quite nice in a tailored jacket. In _fact…_ ”

He played right into her hands. His eyes widened in horror, and he looked honestly unsure as to what to say. “I…”

Relm called off her bluff and burst into laughter. A hand slapped over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. “The _look_ on your face…”

The tips of Fenris’s ears turned red as he shot a glare at her.

“I’m sorry!” she squeaked out between bouts of laughter. “I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“As I would _hope_ not.” But a smile tugged at his lips, turning his glare into a playful one.

“Still, I maintain that you would look quite dashing in the right suit.”

“Would I now?”

She nodded. “Or… in just about anything, really.” At the surprise in his expression, Relm frowned. “What? I thought my usual ogling of you was rather obvious.”

“I – yes, but it is a little different to hear you say it.” He smiled softly. “I am not used to hearing it, but thank you.” He paused, considering something a moment before he added, “Surely you know what I think of you?”

“I’ve heard of what you think of my backside.”

Surprise flitted across his face briefly before Fenris snorted. “Isabela’s doing, no doubt.” He crossed his arms. “You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke. And I suppose I’ve made little effort to hide it. It isn’t as if I stare at it and nothing else all the time.” His hands clenched nervously against his arms. “But if you are uncomfortable-”

“Uncomfortable?” Relm waved the thought off. “Perish the thought. From now on, I’ll make an effort to walk a little slower.” She turned around and wiggled her hips for good measure. “In fact, I’ll do a slow saunter out of here, just for you.”

She heard his chuckle as she ambled down the stairs, putting a little more sway into her hips as she walked. It took everything she had not to laugh, even though her shoulders shook from the constraint. “See you tomorrow night!” she said as she made for the foyer.

As she came to the door, she snuck a look back over her shoulder. She grinned when she found him leaning over the railing, unabashedly watching her as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww yis, learning how to read and write. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you thought!


	12. Push and Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A debate about soul mates rends a rift between Fenris and Relm. It's also the very thing that always brings them back together.

On the way to the Hanged Man for another night of Wicked Grace and piss poor alcohol, Hawke passed by an official Chantry decree. She paused to give it a read.

As soon as she realized what it said, her heart plummeted into her stomach. She knew Anders would see this, and she knew that their night of revelry was now going to be a night of heated debate.

She sighed. “Damn it.”

 

* * *

 

“Did you even _read_ what it said?” Anders snapped at Aveline.

Relm fought hard not to groan outwardly.

The guard captain rubbed her temples. “Yes, Anders. May I remind you that I’m the city guard, _not_ the Chantry? I don’t write or enforce the Chantry laws.”

“But if you saw someone violating it, you’d report them to the templars.”

Aveline shot him a level look. “Yes. If I found evidence that someone believed and practiced in anything related to the concept of soul mates, I would have to report them.”

From across the table, Relm’s grip on her mug tightened. She stared down at her drink, not wanting to look up. Merrill shifted besides her. From the corner of her eye, Relm saw her hands tighten in her lap.

“So.” Anders’s voice dropped low. His tone took the hardness of a rock. “You’ll wind up reporting me.”

It felt like the table held its breath, all seven of its occupants barely moving.

Finally, Aveline sighed. “No, because I have no hard evidence. Unless you want to keep arguing this in a public venue. Then I may not have to do anything.”

Relm took a long drink from her mug, hoping to soothe the dryness in her throat.

“I guess the rumors were true,” Merrill said. She played with her fingers on her lap. “Don’t think I’ll ever understand how the Chantry can tie it to affiliations with demons.” She shook her head. “We all dream – well, almost all of us.” She shot Varric an apologetic smile.

“The Chantry sees it as a deliberate connection,” Aveline said. “Given that it’s usually mages who buy into it, that makes the Chantry even more suspicious.”

“Maker forbid anything done by mages be treated with anything but disdain,” Anders scoffed. “Clearly we’re all just itching to be possessed and ruin the world.”

Fenris’s voice cut in, hard and to the point. “They’ve done as much in Tevinter. I’ve heard of magisters and commoners alike wasting their lives trying to find their so-called soul mate. They’re chasing a lie fed to them by a demon and nothing more. And I’ve heard of many others using it as an excuse to commune with demons in the Fade.”

Relm swallowed back the hurt, looking at the ground, the table, the walls – anything but at Fenris.

“So just because it’s related to spirits and avowed by mages,” Anders said, staring down Fenris. “you instantly treat it with disdain and suspicion.”

He was met with a returning glower from the elf. “And just because it is, you welcome it with open arms. Though that is not surprising, given your state.”

Isabela sighed from the other end of the table. “Oh I am not drunk enough for this. And I don’t want to spend time getting drunk just to hear this.”

“Riviani’s got a point,” Varric said. “We came here to play some Wicked Grace and get appropriately shit-faced, not debate the Chantry’s latest rhetoric.”

Normally that was enough to settle Anders and effectively end the conversation. But not tonight. Instead he shook his head, a stubborn frown set in his features. “How can you just brush this under the rug?”

“There’s a time and place for these kinds of conversations,” Relm cut in. _When you and I are alone and can talk about it. Not here, Anders._ She hoped her thoughts were implied in what she said, and how she looked at him, earnestly pleading for him to let the subject rest.

He remained unmoved. “I refuse to remain silent just because it’s convenient-”

“It’s not about convenience, it’s about safety-”

“And you shouldn’t either!”

Hawke immediately grimaced.

Fenris spoke, his voice low, “You as well?”

_Damn it._ She opened her eyes, hesitantly meeting his piercing gaze. Now came the tricky dance of deciding how much to tell him without risking him learning the truth. The rest of the table fell eerily silent, and it felt like the whole tavern disappeared, leaving just them and the uncomfortable quiet surrounding them.

“Why the spirits do what they do, I don’t know. And I do wonder.” Relm understood the Chantry’s leeriness towards the whole thing, she really did. “But my father told me much about it. He dreamed, and he found his mate and you know what, Fenris?” She gestured with her arm. “Nothing happened. He wasn’t possessed, he didn’t – he didn’t go crazy or something. He just loved her and thought himself the luckiest man in the world to be with her.”

“That is what the demons-”

“That is what he _knew_.” She exhaled evenly through her nose, trying to keep her temper in check. But his disbelief cut into her. Fenris denying the idea of soul mates felt like he was denying her own existence. The hurt wanted to pour out; it needed some way to be released. “Maybe the spirits are up to something. I don’t know. But I trust my father, and he trusted what his soul told him.”

She could all but feel the disdain rolling off of him (though perhaps it was her pain talking). Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. The rejection felt palpable, even as he said nothing. _Because_ he said nothing.

Her chair scraped across the floor as she pushed it back, grabbing her cloak and leaving from the table without a word. She ignored Varric and Aveline calling out after her as she strode out of the Hanged Man. It wasn’t until she was several paces up the road that she finally allowed herself to cry.

 

* * *

 

Her mood soured in the days that followed. She actively avoided Fenris, to the point where she was contemplating postponing his writing lesson for that week. Yet as much as she wanted to keep her distance from him, it also hurt to be away. She missed being in his company, and it only worsened her already sorry state.

As she sat in her chair in the main room, scowling at the fireplace, Aveline came by, telling her about a templar named Emeric and his continued pursuit of a supposed serial killer. Hawke remembered helping him out with it some time ago. In the end, they only found body parts shoved into a bag and nothing pointing them to the killer.

“He’s at it again, saying he has evidence this time,” Aveline said with a sigh. “If you’d look into it, I’d appreciate it. He’s already dogging the guard about it, but officially I can’t do anything about it, not after he had us raid a nobleman’s mansion that turned up nothing. The amount of ass-kissing Meredith and I had to do…”

Because it was Aveline, Hawke couldn’t say no. But she should have known that the whole thing would go tits up as soon as she got involved. It started off bad enough with having to break into that nobleman’s house again, and then having to kill him when she saw him with a woman he had captured. The blood magic he used to ward off Hawke certainly didn’t convince her of his innocence.

Her mood hit its lowest point when she, Varric, Aveline and Merrill went to meet up with Emeric to report what they found, only to find him dead in an alleyway.

The shade that loomed over his body exploded as Hawke slammed it with a fireball.

“Oh no,” Merrill murmured as she leaned down next to the body. “Who would have done this?”

“I think we got the wrong man. Whoever did this, they left us a mess.” Aveline rubbed a hand over her face. “The knight-commander needs to know.”

“Aveline, Daisy, you two wanna go and let the templars know now? Hawke and I will keep a lookout.”

Relm didn’t hear what Aveline or Merrill said. She stood rigid in her spot. Her thoughts wheeled and wandered over other concerns. She thought about Emeric, who tried to do the right thing and got himself killed for it. He stood up for what believed in, and for what? To wind up dead in an alley. Her fingers dug into her staff.

A dwarven-shaped interruption snapped her out of her introspection. He walked in front of her, slinging Bianca onto his back. “Seems odd there was only one shade here. Unless he managed to take out the rest.” He shook his head. “Poor bastard.”

Relm vaguely nodded, not entirely focused on what he was saying.

“Who knows? Maybe more will turn up and you’ll have something to take your frustration out on.” Before Relm could respond, Varric looked up at her. “You’ve been a bit… cranky since that night at the Hanged Man.”

She snorted. “Cranky?”

“Something like that.” Varric’s usual little smile fell, replaced with a seriousness rare of him. “The elf really got to you. But it’s not like people haven’t disagreed with you about that before.”

“It’s different,” she said, knowing her explanation was vague. “I could tell he was… disappointed. Maybe even revolted. Not that I should be surprised.”

The bitterness in her voice, however, did surprise her. She mentally kicked herself, and quickly followed up with, “But he hasn’t shoved his fist through my chest so he can’t hate me all that much.” She tried to come across as joking, playing it off as no big deal.

“Surprised? No. Definitely shouldn’t be surprised.” He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t make it sting less.” A pregnant pause filled the air between them for a moment. He seemed to be considering something, his brow furrowed with thought. “Have you talked to him at all?”

She shook her head. “No. Not sure how. I don’t even know if he’ll want to.”

“Hawke, if your being a mage didn’t dissuade him from you, I don’t think believing in soul mates will.”

“He tolerated my being a mage. This will be going too far.”

“Tolerating someone being a mage is how he treats Daisy and Blondie. Not you.” Varric gave her a discerning look.

She so often felt at ease with him, but now she felt under scrutiny, like his gaze could pick through her brain and read every single thought. Relm shuffled her feet, trying not to fidget. She was reminded of her father, when he would try to wait for her to confess to mischief.

Her voice cracked as she spoke, “He trusts me. Or… he did.”

“He did seem rather willing to trust you.” He tilted his head. “Something I find a little uncharacteristic of him. Not that I’m complaining and that you haven’t earned it,” he added with a little laugh. “But I always did wonder why.”

Despite his tone being light-hearted, there was an inquisitive edge to it that made Hawke leery. She quickly dismissed her concerns. Varric couldn’t possibly suspect anything close to the truth, given his lack of belief. Ten to one he was just being nosy.

“Whatever his reasons, they may not matter anymore.”

“Not going to know until you talk to him.”

“I suppose.” She dreaded the conversation. She feared seeing his look of disgust. But she knew Varric was right, and it had to happen eventually. “He won’t agree with me, and I suspect there’ll be an argument, but if he doesn’t hate me by the end of it, I can live with it.”

It’d be more than enough. It had to be.

 

* * *

 

Rather than calling off the lesson, Relm let it stand. The following evening, she waited for him in front of her fireplace, arms crossed as the minutes ticked by. _Will he even show up?_ she wondered.

At her feet, she heard her mabari whine.

“I know,” she murmured to Canis. “But it is what it-”

Someone rapped on the front door. Hawke’s head snapped up as Bodahn shuffled over to the entrance, calling out, “Coming!” She dug her fingers into her arms as she watched him open the door.

Immediately the dwarf beamed. “Ah, serah! I was beginning to wonder if you were coming tonight!”

Fenris walked in, nodding to Bodahn in greeting. The dwarf greeted him in return before he wandered off, commenting about bringing some tea and snacks for tonight’s lesson.

The elf lifted his head, and his eyes met Hawke’s. She braced herself, waiting for the look of disgust and rage.

What she got instead was hesitation. Nothing cruel, but a wariness in his eyes as he stood by the doorway.

The fist around her heart unclenched a little. “Hello.” Relm gestured towards the study. “Should we get started?”

He nodded, following after her as she walked into the study. Swallowing nervously, she went to the table where they worked on his lessons. She fiddled with the papers and inkwells, spreading them out in an effort to keep herself busy.

“Hawke.”

She stilled, looking up and finding him standing right beside her. He leaned against the table, regarding her closely.

“Yes?”

Like he knew an interruption was desperately needed, Bodahn strode in, a tray full of tea and bread with jam in his hands. “Here you are!” he said cheerfully as he set the tray down on the table. “Just call for me if you need anything else.”

With a smile he left, and the pair was left alone again in the study.

Relm glanced at the table, and caught sight of a few small booklets sitting in a pile. “Oh, I meant to tell you,” she said, jumping at the chance to eliminate the awkward silence. “Sebastian brought these by for you.” She picked up the thin books, showing them to Fenris. “It’s a little early for you to be reading these yet, but in a few more weeks we can start on them.”

“He mentioned something about this,” Fenris murmured as he took a book, paging through it.

Relm smiled at the memory. Sebastian came to Relm just days ago, praising her for taking the initiative to teach Fenris and offering his assistance. “They’re from the Chantry. We’ll have to return them eventually, but we can borrow them for now. Did you tell him you were learning?”

Fenris nodded. “He caught me trying to read a post at the Chantry board.” He smiled wryly. “Once he coerced the truth out of me, he had offered to teach me until I told him that you already were.”

“Yes. He, ah… he told me that he would teach in my stead, if I were ever unable to one night.” Her lips pursed, and she looked at the ground. “So, you have options. If you’d rather he teach you, I won’t take offense.”

“If I did not want to be here, I wouldn’t be,” Fenris said. “Though I am somewhat surprised you didn’t call the lesson off.”

“I thought about it,” she admitted. “But avoiding each other doesn’t really solve anything. That, and I didn’t want your education to suffer because of our…” She vaguely gestured with her hands. She didn’t know what to call what happened that night: a fight? A spat? Finally she settled on, “Disagreement.” Brushing her hair back, she quietly added, “I’m sort of surprised,” More like very surprised, “that you came.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I came for the same reasons.”

“But you still want me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

“You still want to be around me?”

“Do _you_ still want me around?”

Relm huffed out a breath. “That’s different. I knew pretty early on you didn’t believe in it.”

“The principle is the same, even if you had more foreknowledge than I did,” Fenris countered, taking a seat at the table. Relm followed suit. “While I certainly don’t agree with your stance, and that you place your hope in something that is, at best, foolish, it is not something I would abandon our friendship for.”

_He still sees me as a friend,_ Relm thought in relief, unable to hide her smile. _That’s more than I could have asked for._ “I’m glad to hear that. Though…”

“Though what?”

“Why?” She leaned forward on her elbows. “Anders and Merrill are apostates, and they believe in soul mates. Yet you don’t treat them as kindly as you do me.”

“Merrill is a blood mage who is trying to restore a broken magic mirror of which she has no idea of its use or purpose. She thinks she is restoring history, but she won’t even consider that she’s likely inviting in danger to those around her.” He snorted derisively. “And Anders is an abomination whose very presence threatens everyone in his vicinity. Worst yet, he fails to see the dangers of magic and would jeopardize the many for the comfort of a few.” He stared pointedly at Hawke. “You are not like them.”

She wanted to argue they were more, that those traits didn’t make them bad people, but with Fenris it was always about picking battles. Instead, she opted for a different approach. “I suppose it’d be a bad time to mention that every full moon I sneak off onto Sundermount, slit open my hands and dance as I do all sorts of… blood magic things.”

“Do you now?” he asked in a monotone.

“Naked, I might add.”

“…when is the next full moon?”

“Not for another week. Why?” Hawke cocked an eyebrow at him. “So you can come stop me?”

His expression betrayed no mirth, save for the gleam in his eyes. “So I can watch you.” A beat. “And then stop you, of course.”

“Of course.” Relm tried to hide her smile behind a deadpan expression. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders, glad to be back to teasing each other again. She doubted this was entirely resolved; the subject would come up again. But for now, they could move past it. “Now, with that out of the way, we should get started.” She grabbed the papers and slid them over towards Fenris.

 

* * *

 

Tonight Fenris was to learn the letter “H”. After reviewing the letters he’d already learned, Hawke set to teach him how to write it. As “H” was one of the easier letters to set to pen, Fenris’s letters didn’t resemble chicken scratch quite so much as the others. Still, for the first few attempts, she guided his hand, showing him how to form the letters… and trying very hard to ignore the feel of his fingers between hers. Their close proximity as they hunched over the paper hardly helped matters.

His nose brushed against her hair when he turned, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. _Concentrate, for the love of the Maker._

After he wrote the letter out a number of times, each one a little better than the last, she grabbed a list of words beginning with “H” and went over them with him, teaching him how to read it.

He picked up on it quickly. After just a few attempts, he got the hang of reading it and writing it. She couldn’t help but admire how well he was doing in such a short amount of time.

Which was why, towards the end of the lesson, she decided he was ready for a challenge. Grabbing a slip of parchment, she scrawled out a sentence. She then slid it towards him. “You’ve only been reading individual words and letters up until now. But I think you’re ready to take on a full sentence.”

He stiffened slightly, the assignment catching him off guard. Doubt crept into his eyes. “I do not know if…”

“You can.” Relm smiled, hoping to encourage him. “I’ll help you; I’m not expecting you to read it on your own right away.”

Seemingly more assured, he nodded and looked down at the slip of paper. The sentence was simple: _Dee had a bad bag._ It comprised of letters he’d already learned. He placed his finger under the first letter.

“ _Deh-ee…_ ” His ears twitched. “No, that doesn’t sound right. _Dah –_ no. _Dee?_ ”

“Mmhmm.”

“Dee … _ha-aye-”_ He paused again. “ _Ha-ah-deh.”_

“Keep going.”

“ _Ah… buh-ah-duh … buh-ah-”_

He stopped again, but this time he struggled with the word. Relm gave him a few seconds to try and work it out before she cut in to help. “Bag. _Buh-aeh-guh._ ”

_“Buh-aeh-guh.”_

“Okay. Now put it all together.”

She watched as the lines in his brow creased, eyes narrowed as he stared down the words. A similar look to the one he wore when he was about to take on an opponent in battle. She supposed that really, there wasn’t much of a difference here. Just less bloodshed.

“ _Dee… ha-ah-deh… ah… buh-ah-duh… buh-aeh-guh._ ” His eyes brightened. “Dee had a bad bag.”

Relm beamed at him when he looked up at her. “You just read your first sentence,” she said, excitement leaking into her voice. “I’m proud of you,” she added softly.

“A student is as good as their teacher.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” she said. “We’ve been doing this for only a matter of weeks and already you’ve learned how to write eight letters and read a sentence.” Words failed to express how much in awe she was of him and his ability. She motioned with her hands, like they could somehow get her admiration across better than clumsy words could. The feeling was potent, and something separate from what she normally felt for him. So many of her feelings towards him were wrapped up in them being soul mates. But this stemmed from something else entirely: their time spent together over this task. They forged it all on their own, and that meant something special to Hawke.

But none of it was anything she could say to him. So instead, she just laughed at herself and how awkward she must look, waving her hands and not saying anything. “Sorry. I just… I mean, I want you to be proud of yourself, too. And I can’t wait to see how far you’ll be in a couple months. I’m… really happy.” A pause. “For you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For believing in me, and taking the time to teach me. I never thought anyone ever would.”

“Of course.” But her brow furrowed as she added, “I’m doing it because I want to. Why do you find that surprising?”

“Because of what I am. Or what I was, rather.”

“You mean being a former slave. I told you that doesn’t bother me.”

Sometimes, she seemed to confound him. His brow would pucker and his eyes searched her, looking for some sign of a trick or joke. Right now he did just that, hand to his chin in thought. Relm just sat in silence, letting him muddle over whatever happened to be confusing him.

His expression changed in an instant, going from pensive to discerning. “Tell me. When you look at me, what is the first thing that enters your head?”

“Fenris.”

“Beyond just my name.”

_Soul mate._ “Friend. Warrior. Man.” She softly chewed on the side of her mouth in thought. “Blood. The eye of a storm.” Suppressing a smile, she added, “Angsty Tevinter elf.”

“Thank you, _Varric,_ ” Fenris said drolly.

As she snickered, Relm scooted forward until their knees bumped together. “And you?”

“Me?”

“What’s the first thing that crosses your mind when you see me?” She laughed softly. “Though I suspect it’s probably ‘that damnable mage’.”

Where she expected a chuckle or a roll of his eyes, she got silence. The air suddenly became charged. Something in his gaze – in the way it darkened and drew her in – chased the humor away, leaving a heady feeling of tension and anticipation that roiled in her gut. For the life of her she couldn’t move, nor did she want to.

“No,” he murmured as he leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. “This.”

She felt it before her brain registered it: the soft press of his lips against hers and a sword-calloused hand brushing against her cheek. It sent her mind into a dizzying spin, coherent thought drowned in a sea of surprise and joy. She eagerly kissed him back, not wanting him for a second to believe she didn’t want this, didn’t want _him._

After a moment he pulled back, still close enough for their breaths to intermingle. His thumb brushed against her cheekbone. Her usual caution tossed itself off a cliff as she boldly took his face in her hands and crushed her lips against his again.

Her eagerness swept away his own hesitation. Fenris responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in close as he deepened the kiss. She opened up to him on a sigh, letting him taste and explore her before doing the same. Her tongue slid against his own and he groaned, fingers digging into her back and hips.

No thought could quite stick in her mind; they disappeared in a haze of want, all but the taste of him and the absolute need to be closer to him. Her fingers swept up and entangled themselves in his hair, sifting through the soft locks. His fingers bunched up the fabric of her shirt and skidded along bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As one kiss melded into another, and then another, she vaguely realized she somehow had ended up in his lap. Not that she minded that at _all._ She quite enjoyed being so close, with their chests pressed against each other’s and his hand sliding down to cup her ass. Tentatively, she let her fingertips press little circles against the top of his spine. Her touch was barely there, not wanting to irritate his markings and cause him pain.

He hummed, pleasure and encouragement rolled into one sound that she felt more than she heard. Reassured, she let her fingers dig in slightly harder, leaving a trail down his spine. She smiled when she felt him shudder.

Then she felt it, that _pull_ in her soul, the same one she felt the day they cleaned his room. It transformed her hazy want to single-minded need. A need to connect, to reach out to him in a way she couldn’t describe but could keenly feel. Gasping, she ground her hips against his. “Fenris…”

Given what happened that day, the last time they felt this, she expected him to pull away. But instead, he bit softly on her bottom lip as he began to fumble with his laces. He growled in frustration when he couldn’t get them undone fast enough. Relm’s head pounded as she shakily reached down to help him, so desperately wanting-

A loud bang jolted them out of their trance. From the other room, Sandal shouted, “Enchantment!”

“ _Sandal,_ what have you done?” Bodahn asked wearily, shortly followed by his heavy footsteps across the floor, no doubt investigating Sandal’s latest accident.

The interruption allowed the pair in the study to gather their thoughts. Hawke blinked owlishly, reaching up to idly fix Fenris’s mussed hair.

The elf shook his head. “That was…”

“Yeah.” As much as Relm rather wished the disruption hadn’t occurred, she also knew it was ultimately for the best.

“Hawke, I…”

She knew what he wanted to say. Smiling gently, Relm placed a finger against his lips. “We don’t need to decide or figure out anything right now.”

Immediately he relaxed, letting his hands splay over her back. “Thank you. Not that I didn’t enjoy that.” He kissed her finger. “It is getting late, however.”

Relm tried not to pout. “We still have a few minutes.” To emphasize her point, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck. “I mean, unless you really want to leave.”

He chuckled, low and warm. She wanted to wrap herself up in the sound. “Even if I did, you are a hard woman to say no to.”

Triumph made her feel light and giddy, not just because she convinced him to stay but because her soul mate was in her arms and he wanted her. As he leaned up to capture her lips, she knew with no small amount of elation that this was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh it took them long enough.


	13. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of anniversaries and favors.

Hawke trudged back towards Kirkwall as the sun began to sink into the horizon. Varric, Sebastian and Aveline were in tow. Her usual tag-a-long had secluded himself in his house that day, his only communication to her being an invitation to join him later, after her business at the Bone Pit was resolved.

_Bloody spiders,_ she thought with an internal grumble. She knew it would take a considerable amount of time to wash all the gunk out of her hair.

“How goes Fenris’s reading and writing?” Sebastian asked, pulling her from the unpleasant prospect and onto happier topics.

“He’s learned about half the alphabet. Hit a bit of a wall on ‘J’ but he’s doing well otherwise.” Relm recalled that night, where his frustration mounted to the point where he flung the papers off the table. He cursed himself for not being able to surmount his mental block. It took half a bottle of wine, gentle words and one wonderfully distracting kiss before he calmed down enough to start again.

A bit of laughter brought her back to reality.

“What?” she asked, shooting Varric a look.

“Hawke, sometimes you’re so easy to discern.” He chuckled again. “Do you know you get this look on your face when you’re thinking about the elf?”

She schooled her expression to one of neutrality, suddenly conscious of how she looked. “What sort of look?”

The dwarf was hardly fooled, and his amused smirk told her as much. “Just that slightly wistful, happy look of someone’s who’s definitely a bit… _smitten._ ”

“ _Smitten_?” She tried to scoff at the suggestion. “He is my friend, one whom I am teaching to read and write.” Also, one that she liked to kiss when the opportunity presented itself.

“Do you also know that you’re a terrible liar?”

She closed her eyes and inhaled evenly through her nose. _Do not punt the dwarf. Do not punt the dwarf…_ “Varric, we are not…”

She waved with her hands, trying to think of the appropriate word. _Courting_ sounded too formal, and anything else either seemed insufficient or too much.

“Caboodling.”

“I…” Varric barely started his sentence before it devolved into a fit of laughter. A hand covered his eyes as his shoulders shook. “ _Caboodle,_ Hawke? What is that, some Fereldan term?”

“ _I_ certainly never heard of it,” Aveline said.

“Oh shut up, all of you,” Hawke muttered. “You know what I meant!”

As his laughter died down, Varric stretched out his arms. “If you say so, Hawke. By the way, where are you going tonight that we had to be back by Kirkwall before sunset?”

“I’m-” Suddenly she stopped, realizing he (in)advertently sent her straight into a trap. “Have… plans.” _Shit. He’s not going to-_

“So you’re going to Fenris’s.”

She puffed out her cheeks and looked away.

Varric threw his head back and howled again with laughter. To Hawke’s chagrin, she heard Sebastian and Aveline chuckling behind her, too.

“I hate all of you,” she muttered as she walked faster, trying to pull away from them. But Varric’s laughter dogged her the whole way back.

 

* * *

 

_Bloody friends,_ Relm thought as she strode over to Fenris’s increasingly dilapidated house. It wasn’t like she was ashamed of anything she and Fenris had. It was simply too soon to give it a label, and she had hoped she had hidden it well enough to avoid notice. Clearly, she failed on that front.

As she approached his door, she considered warning Fenris about it. If Varric knew, then Isabela probably had her suspicions. The dwarf might keep quiet, congenial teasing aside, but the pirate was less likely to not say anything. Relm feared Fenris getting spooked if it was brought up to him.

She inhaled the warm summer air, pushing the worry from her mind before pushing open the door.

Her nose scrunched at the usual stench that greeted her. She rolled her eyes as she headed for his room. _I wonder what it’ll take to get the others involved and just do a mass cleaning of this place?_ Several nights’ worth of paid drinks at the Hanged Man, most likely.

A smile snuck its way onto her face, but it always did when she was about to see Fenris. However, when she entered the room and found three – no, four empty bottles of booze on the table in front of him, it faltered a little.

When alcohol-clouded eyes met hers, worry tore through her like a lance.

“The last bottle of the _Aggregio,_ ” Fenris declared, holding it up towards her. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

She had seen him drunk before. That wasn’t new. But something in his mannerisms and his too-happy smirk put her on alert. Not to mention the fact that he had holed himself up in there all day…

“And what’s that?” she asked curiously, taking the bottle from him.

He smiled lopsidedly. “The anniversary of my escape.”

Relm nearly dropped the bottle in surprise. _That’s today?_ Her eyes widened for a moment, her mind flashing back to that day. She could still hear the screams of the Fog Warriors, and the horror Fenris felt as they laid dead at his feet. She so vividly remembered the last Warrior who grabbed Fenris and made him run, laying down his life so the elf could escape.

She snapped out of it, quickly taking a drink from the bottle to hide her teetering emotions.

“ _Astia valla fermundis._ ” He leaned forward, a smirk set in his features that simultaneously drew her to him, and made her uneasy. “Care to hear the story?”

She already knew it. But this was a rare opportunity to hear him open up about himself. So she took a seat, setting the bottle down on the table. “Well, I do enjoy listening to you talk.”

He leaned against the table, striking a casual but confident pose as he eyed her. Right now, his guard was down and his usual reserve buried under the weight of cups upon cups of wine. “There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman.”

_Please don’t be blushing. You’ve already made an idiot of yourself once today._

“Let’s see…” Fenris relaxed against his chair. “You’ve heard of Seheron? The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries now. I was there with Danarius during a Qunari attack. I managed to get him to a ship, but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive.”

Images of fire and burning buildings flooded her. She could still remember Danarius’s panicked shouts.

“I have a hard time believing Danarius left you behind willingly. Didn’t he consider you valuable?”

“He didn’t have a choice.” Fenris snickered. “The look on his face when the ship pulled away was priceless.”

_Oh yes it was._

“There are rebels in the Seheron jungle called Fog Warriors. They took me in and nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time.” There she saw a flash of pain and anger before he looked away. “Until Danarius came back for me.”

She swallowed back the memory of how she sensed his dread and fear that day, standing on the road in Lothering. “He must have been _so_ relieved to see you alive,” she said drolly.

“Relieved that his investment didn’t wind up in Qunari hands, more likely.” Here he hesitated, the words not coming easily to him. “I… had grown fond of the rebels. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom. It was beyond my experience.” He took the bottle of wine into his hand and stared at it. “When Danarius came, they refused to let him take me.”

Those brave souls had taught him how to stand up for himself. And they paid the price for that lesson with their lives. Relm let out an unsteady breath.

Fenris took a long swig from the bottle, roughly wiping away the liquid from his mouth when he finished. Agony creased his face. “He ordered me to kill them. So I did. I… killed them all.”

“You did.” She meant for it to come out as a question, but instead it came out more as a statement.

Luckily, Fenris didn’t seem to notice. “It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this, this fantasy life was over.” The silence that followed, though brief, spoke of his guilt and shame. Relm felt it coming off him in waves.

“Fenris…” Her hands ached with the want to reach out and hold him.

“But once it was done, I looked down at their bodies. I felt… I couldn’t…” He looked at her, eyes pleading for… something. Begging her to help him. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, but closed it. His lips melded into a hard line before he said. “I ran, and never looked back.”

He left out the part that happened with the remaining Fog Warrior. Relm wasn’t entirely surprised. But she also felt like she was left hanging. She hoped that he would talk about that, and mention if he recalled hearing her voice in his head, screaming at him to run. Maybe he didn’t remember, or he hadn’t made the connection.

“Didn’t Danarius try to stop you?” she asked, hoping to glean more from him.

“The rebels had wounded him, and the soldiers he brought were sent to capture me.” He smirked. “Unsuccessfully. It was weeks before Danarius was able to mount the hunt in earnest, and by then I was already gone.”

She nodded, and withheld any more questions. This couldn’t have been easy for him to begin with, and she refused to push him too much. She would have to live with the disappointment of never knowing. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ve never spoken about what happened, to anyone.” He stared back down at the bottle, clearly finding it easier to talk to it than to look at Hawke. “I never wanted to.” From under his eyes, his eyes peeked up at her. “But it’s different with you.”

“Different?” She held out her hand, beckoning for the bottle. He handed it to her and she took a drink. But she held onto it afterwards, for she could begin to see him sway a little bit in his seat. Clearly he had had enough. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I don’t understand. Why do I find it so easy to talk to you?”

She shrugged a little. “My sunny disposition and devastatingly good looks?” she teased.

He shook his head, features scrunched into a snarl as he suddenly stood up and paced. “No, I mean it. I have every reason to distrust you. You are a mage, one in a position of power, and you hold questionable beliefs that could make you dangerous. And yet, I feel… calmer, when you are with me. Like an ache that’s finally been eased.”

The truth begged to be spoken. The words rose up in her, fighting to be revealed. Clenched teeth and fear of rejection held them back, but only barely. Instead, Relm merely watched him, searching for something less drastic to say.

“Fenris, I…”

He suddenly turned towards her, his strides determined as he walked over to her. She froze, waiting to see what he would do. She let out a muffled sound of surprise when he pulled her to her feet and crushed his lips against hers. Anticipation coursed through her as his tongue demanded entrance. She relented, and he was ruthless, sucking and taking all she had to give.

He usually was a gentle kisser, which was why such aggression left her reeling. Not unpleasantly, though. His kisses made her want more with each one they roughly exchanged. Her hands bunched against his shirt, and he pulled her in closer.

They both eventually parted, gasping for air. Their lips were swollen and stinging, but Relm wanted nothing more than to continue.

Which she might have acted on, if it weren’t for the way Fenris began swaying on his feet. He shifted to the side and his drunken balance nearly sent him over to the floor, held up only by Relm’s arms and her quick reflexes.

“Why?” he murmured, forehead pressed against hers as she helped right him. “Why you?”

Every ounce of her willpower went to suppressing the words that roared to be freed again. Her voice shook from the effort. “How about,” she began, leading him towards his bed. “you contemplate that while laying down?”

He grunted, moving with her. His steps were wobbly, but they made it to his bed without incident. She helped him climb into it, picking up his legs and swinging them onto the mattress.

“There,” she said. “Now you can sleep this off… and the inevitable hangover.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Tell me that again in the morning.”

She pulled a blanket over him. But as she made to stand up, he grabbed her wrist. “Stay,” he murmured. “I would… like it if you stayed.”

Relm nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. She smiled, watching him as he fought to keep his eyes open… and lost. Within minutes, they drifted shut, and she saw his body relax as sleep overtook him. She waited silently, only moving when he fell into a deeper sleep, as indicated by his soft snoring.

But rather than make her exit, she leaned forward until she was over him, her head right above his. “Why me, you ask?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Because we’re soul mates, Fenris. Together we’re whole. I can feel it, and you can, too.”

She brushed his hair from his face. “Despite the odds and everything working against us, we found each other. Almost ridiculous, isn’t it? But here we are.” Her thumb brushed over his cheek, sliding along the edge of his cheekbone. “I can’t wait to see how it goes.” She smiled tenderly. “And I can’t wait to fall in love with you.”

Here she leaned back, her voice taking on a dramatic tone. “’But Hawke!’ you might say. ‘Don’t you already?’ Well, sort of, but… it’s strange. I know you, but yet I don’t. I know you in a strange way, but there are things I’m still learning about you. And I guess I don’t want to love you just because we’re mates. I mean, it has a lot to do with it, but I want to love you…” She searched for the words. “ _alongside_ of it.” She nodded, satisfied with that statement. “Yeah, alongside it.

“Not that it’s going to be very hard,” she added with a wry smile. “Pretty sure it’s already happening. I just hope that…” Emotion choked her words; she was forced to swallow to continue. “I hope that someday, maybe, you’ll feel the same.”

She shook her head, trying to shake off the emotions threatening to break free. Quickly she bent down and kissed him on his forehead. “Good night, Fenris,” she murmured before getting up and making a hasty exit, lest he wake up.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Relm came home, Bodahn hurried up to her, letter in hand.

“For you, serah,” he said as he handed it to her. “I apologize for rushing you like this, but it’s from your friend. Anders, I think his name is? He said it was urgent.”

Relm thanked him and opened up the letter while walking towards the fireplace. To her surprise, she found the note to be not in his handwriting, but one she didn’t recognize. She jumped to the end to see who it was from.

_Myrella._ Her stomach turned a little. _This can’t be anything pleasant._ She hadn’t heard from the mage since her last correspondence to her about Sister Petrice. She all but had given up hope that she’d hear from her again.

_Hawke,_

_Thank you for your last letter. Sister Petrice always rubbed me wrong, but even I had no idea she’d go so far. The good news is that we’re taking a harder look at her._

_But since we’re doing that, we’re a little short on manpower, and something’s come up. Templars arrested and interrogated a couple suspected of believing in soul mates last night. They live in Lowtown, and they have been married for over thirty years. Perhaps you’ve seen their little jewelry and accessory stall?_

Relm knew of whom she spoke about. She had seen them from time to time, selling bits of jewelry and cloth to passersby. One of the women almost talked her into a pretty hairpin once. Relm promised to come back and consider it when she had more money. They both just smiled and wished her a good day.

_One fought back, and she paid for it. When we caught wind, one of mine got them out and brought them to Anders. She sported horrific injuries_ ; _even Anders’s magic could only do so much for her._ _They’re both recovering, but they’re not safe here anymore. The thing is, Hawke, they_ are _soul mates. They helped in our earlier years, before Meredith and her men sent us underground. They need to get out of Kirkwall. Right now, they’re still believed to be in custody. Bloody templars aren’t going to admit that they lost their suspects._

Relm knew where this was going. The women were to be whisked out of Kirkwall, and gossip would spread. If their escape was kept secret, many would blame the templars for the women’s disappearance. People would draw conclusions, ones not necessarily favorable to the templars. So while the couple would be out of Kirkwall, the templars would look suspicious. It almost worked out a bit too perfectly.

_This is where I need your help. I’m asking you and Anders to get them safely out of the city. By ship would be preferable, but if need be, on foot as well. Do this, and you’ll have earned my trust. If you have any coin to spare – which I suspect you would – please do offer to them. The farther they can get, the better._

_We don’t have much time. We’ll hide them as long as we can, but the templars will be looking. Please, Hawke._

 

_\- Myrella_

Relm rubbed a hand over her face. She knew if she agreed, then this would hardly be the last request for her help, physically or monetary. She suspect she’d wind up essentially backing Myrella’s operations and get dragged into Maker knows what. But she also knew she couldn’t say no. _Maker’s breath, Fenris is right; I do have a bleeding heart._

“Relm?”

She turned and looked up to find her mother staring at her. “Mm, sorry. What is it?” She blinked. “You’re up rather late.”

“You look worried.” Leandra approached her daughter, standing next to her at her desk. “Is everything all right?”

“I just heard about a couple that disappeared in Lowtown,” Relm said. “Witnesses saw them being taken away by templars.”

“Mages?”

Relm shook her head. “No. Soul mate believers. Not sure how the templars caught wind of something like that, but that’s what happened.”

Leandra furrowed her brow. “How is that the duty of templars?”

“It’s not.” It wasn’t supposed to be. “But you know this city’s antagonism towards the belief. And Meredith is the driving force behind it. She’s the one who ordered those flyers up all around the city announcing the Chantry’s decision on the matter. Though I doubt Elthina argued with her much on it.”

“How do you know this?”

“I hear things.”

“With how much you’re out and about, I can believe it.” Leandra smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Relm, please be careful. It was one thing in Lothering, where we more secluded. But here, especially with so many eyes on you-”

“I don’t go around blabbing about it,” Relm said defensively.

“I didn’t say you do. But if a couple like that could get caught, so can you.” Leandra turned to face her daughter, her eyes pleading with Relm to understand where she was coming from. “Perhaps it’s a little less likely, as you’re not with anyone, but still…”Suddenly, her brow lifted. “Oh, that reminds me. Wait here a moment.” She walked towards the stairs, leaving Relm befuddled as she climbed them and headed towards her room. 

In the meantime, Relm tucked the letter into her pocket. _Maker forbid that Mother sees it._

A minute later, Leandra returned, holding a red handkerchief. “Speaking of such things, I want you to have this. I’ve been meaning to give it to you.”

Relm took it, unfolding it in her hands. “Uh… thanks?” Though the more she looked at it, the more familiar it seemed.

“It’s an Amell tradition. We give a red favor to those who’ve earned our heart.”

“Oh.” Relm regarded the ‘kerchief more closely, and that was when it dawned on her. “Wait, wasn’t this Father’s?”

“Yes.” Leandra smiled sadly, her eyes crinkling with age and distant grief. “It was the one I gave him so long ago. And now I’m giving it to you to give it to the man of your choice.”

Relm hardly knew what to say. “I… Mother, I can’t-”

“It’s all right, Relm. Take it. I want you to have it. I want to see it have a second life.” She closed her daughter’s hands over the favor and pressed it to her chest. “When the time comes, choose well.”

Words still stuck in her throat, Relm simply nodded. Leandra patted her cheek before bidding her a good night.

Hawke watched her mother leave before she took a seat at her writing desk. She turned the favor over in her hands, thinking about the one she would give it to. She already knew, but the thought of it still made her head spin. Just picturing giving it to Fenris, anticipating his reaction-

_No. Not tonight. We’ve got bigger problems._ She thought of the note in her pocket. Somehow, some way, she needed to figure out just how she and Anders were going to sneak two women out of Kirkwall.

_Then_ she could worry about Fenris and favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that irked me about DA2 was that the red favor just... comes out of nowhere. At least, I never found any reference to it. I feel like it was a missed opportunity for an interesting set up on BioWare's part. 
> 
> That aside, hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Comments and kudos are lovely!


	14. Risky Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anders is really damn lucky he made it to the end of the chapter alive.

Late at night in Anders’s clinic, he and Relm hatched a plan. The two women would be snuck out via the tunnels used to help mages escape the Circle. It meant the women would have to travel by foot, but the docks were out after Anders spotted templars searching the area.

“I have a contact who can have a pair of horses ready for them tomorrow night,” Anders said.

Relm rubbed her forehead. “Won’t them running just make the templars even more suspicious?”

“They’ve already made up their minds,” Anders countered. “While the women remain in Kirkwall, they’ll never be safe. The people close to them will not be safe, either. Anyone associated with these women will be under intense scrutiny. The templars will never let up until they confess.” He shook his head. “Stubborn, determined bastards. I won’t let them tear another pair of mates apart.”

Her heart ached for him, knowing the grief behind his words. As leery as Myrella’s group made her, Relm was glad at least that they gave Anders something to focus on. He had his patients, but treating them did little to vent his grief and anger.

“How have you been doing with that?” she asked quietly.

The long stretch of silence she was met with worried her. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Depends. Some days, I can get by all right. But others…” He leaned his head into his hands. Suddenly it seemed like he had aged decades. “I just want to die. Everything in me screams out, and I… I don’t know. It feels like trying to move a limb that’s been amputated. The memory is there, but nothing responds. And that nothingness threatens to tear me to pieces.”

He noticed the way her eyes widened in stricken horror. Quickly he smiled in reassurance. “It’s all right. I’ve got enough here to keep me going. When I have those days, I just throw myself into work. There’s no shortage of it around here. Now, come on, we should focus.” He lifted his head, brow furrowed in thought. “We really shouldn’t run into much trouble in those tunnels, save for maybe spiders.”

Understanding his wanting to change the subject, Relm nodded. “If this were anyone else, I’d say yes. But we have my rather shitty luck in play here.”

“True,” Anders muttered, knowing all too well that her luck was no joking matter. “All right. Who can we trust to bring along with us?”

“Merrill, definitely. I’d also say Isabela.”

“I agree on Merrill, but Isabela? She doesn’t even believe in soul mates.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hawke said with a shrug. “She knows what it’s like to be on the run. Regardless of what these women believe, she’ll want to help.”

Anders sighed. “Fine. I’d feel better if we had a warrior along, but Aveline would gripe endlessly.” His expression darkened. “And Fenris… _ha._ ”

Relm nodded. She couldn’t bring him along, but not just because he wouldn’t agree.

He leveled a look at her. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“No,” she said, less than pleased at the accusation. “Why would I? I didn’t tell him about why we really ‘helped’ Sister Petrice.” Something she still felt guilty about.

“Because he cows you when it comes to this sort of thing. You always step so carefully around him, especially about soul mates. Look at what happened at the Hanged Man a few nights back.”

“What, because I left rather than starting a pointless argument?” Fenris was never going to budge on the subject. “We may not agree on that matter, but I still care about him.”

Anders snorted. “I don’t understand what you see in him. He acts more like a wild animal than a person.”

Her fist bunched. Luckily, the table hid it from view. She felt her magic charge along her fingers, and she turned away to keep herself from hitting him. She withheld the truth from him; it was her own fault he had no idea that Fenris was her mate. She brought this on herself.

“He’s my friend,” she said evenly, “as much as you are. And what happened to focusing on the task at hand, hm?”

“Right,” he muttered.

 

* * *

 

The following night, Isabela and Merrill met them at the entrance to the underground.

“The women will be waiting for us below,” Anders explained as he opened the hatch. “Bear in mind one of them is still injured, so our pace will be slow.”

“Who beats up middle-aged women?” Isabela said with a shake of her head.

“Templars,” Anders spat back before the hatch swung open. “Let’s get moving.”

They climbed down the ladder, Relm shutting the latch behind them. Darkness greeted them and it surrounded them for several feet until they came upon a lit area further down the path.

Anders glanced over at Merrill. “Now, you _definitely_ did not say anything about this to the others, right?”

“No,” she said. “though I don’t understand the secrecy. Shouldn’t one of them at least know where we are? Just in case?”

“We’ll be fine,” Anders insisted. “Better that they not know and spare us a lecture. And better if they don’t know so they won’t have to lie, if it comes down to it.”

They soon found the two women. One of them wore a shawl that covered her head and hid most of her face, while the other eyed them warily.

Carefully, the four of them approached.

“I’m Anders,” he said to them by way of greeting.

Neither woman moved.

“The city sure is cold tonight,” he continued, “but I hear it’s warmer up north.”

Immediately the two women smiled and walked up to him. “Thank you for coming,” the woman without a shawl said. “I’m Rose, and this is Tislin.”

Anders introduced Hawke, Isabela and Merrill to them. “Shall we get moving?”

Relm picked up one of their bags, slinging it over her shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw Isabela and Merrill do the same.

As they began to set off, Merrill said, “You know, I didn’t think it was _that_ cold tonight.”

“It was a password, Kitten,” Isabela explained. “To let them know it was really us and not someone else.”

“Oh, like in those spy novels?”

The Rivaini laugh. “Yes, just like that.”

They headed deep below the city, where the steps gradually became overgrown with vegetation and in an increasing state of disrepair. As Anders warned, their progress was slowed by Tislin’s condition. Often they had to stop to let her catch her breath. Anders tried to ease her wounds as much as he could, but they told him to keep his strength.

And they were right to, as they were not alone in the abandoned tunnels. Giant spiders infested the pathways. The two women found places to hide as their escorts battled it out with the creatures. The combined magic of Merrill, Relm and Anders weakened them considerably, leaving them for Isabela to finish off.

“Ugh, where’s the big girl when you really need her?” Isabela muttered at one point as she wiped off the spider guts.

“Probably working,” Merrill answered. “She does work an awful lot. I hope she finds time to do something fun now and then.”

“She follows Hawke around for ‘fun’. I doubt she knows what the word actually means _._ ”

Unable to help but laugh, Relm shook her head and swung her staff onto her back.

As she did so, overheard Tislin quietly say to Rose, “They’re mages.”

“So be it. They’re in the same boat as us,” Rose countered as she helped her mate pick up their bags. “As long as they’re willing to help, I won’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.”

 

* * *

 

The next few hours crawled by. Relm worried the women would be tired out, but despite Tislin’s injuries, they seemed determined to keep going. She admired their tenacity.

Aside from the spiders, their trip was uneventful. Relm began to wonder if her luck actually changed for the better. At least for tonight; she had no delusions it would remain that way.

“There,” Anders said, pointing ahead. “We’re getting close. See that corner? Around it is the last stretch of pathway, which will then lead outside to where the horses are waiting.”

“Oh, we’ll be out of here soon,” Rose said with a sigh of relief. “How far to the nearest village?”

“About five or so miles north,” he said as he walked ahead. “I know you’re tired, but I recommend making as much headway as you can tonight.” He stepped around the corner. “The farther you get-” When he looked ahead, his words died on his tongue.

Relm immediately walked up and peered around him. What she saw made her heart nearly stop.

Down the stairs stood a group of templars, blocking the way out. They readied themselves when they saw Anders.

“Halt!” the leader said. “What are you doing down here?”

“I could ask the same,” Anders shot back. “These tunnels aren’t restricted.”

Curious by what was going on, Rose peered her head around. “Who’s there?”

“Get back!” Relm hissed, but it was too late.

The lead templar jerked a finger at Rose. “That’s one of the women we’re looking for! You’re aiding and abetting escaped prisoners!”

They began to draw their weapons. Anders stomped forward, bringing out his own staff. “Leave them be! They’ve done nothing wrong!”

By now, Merrill, Isabela and Tislin joined them at the top of the stairs. Tislin grabbed Rose and tried to yank her back.

“Those women,” the templar spat, “practice heretical beliefs and fraternize with demons. The Chantry condemns their beliefs. Frankly, they’re no better than blood mages and abominations.” He waved a hand. “Or most other mages, for that matter.”

Blue cracks began to form along Anders’s skin. “No, don’t,” he said to himself, grabbing his head.

“Take the women into custody,” the templar said. “And their escorts as well.”

“No! No!” Anders lurched forward, his hands shaking as they dug into his scalp. “You can’t-”

Suddenly, blue light erupted from him, and out came a roar. His head jerked up, his eyes glowing that same eerie blue. “ **You will not separate any more soul mates! Your tyranny ends here!** ” Justice bellowed.

Chaos erupted around them. The two women screamed in terror as the templars shouted in surprise and anger, charging forth with their weapons drawn to cut him down. Relm barely had the presence of mind to tell Tislin and Rose to hide before she surged forward, closely followed by Merrill and Isabela.

It brought her back to that night in the Chantry, when Karl died. Justice’s rage was just as terrifying now as it was then. Yet it did give them a distinct advantage over the templars; the lot came prepared to find two older women and maybe possibly a small skirmish, but certainly not for the fury of a spirit of Justice.

Despite Hawke’s group being outnumbered, the templars fell quickly, even with their magic-suppressing talents. As the last one gurgled his last breath before falling to the ground, Hawke wiped her brow and turned towards Anders. She hoped to find him back in control, now that the templars were dead.

But as indicated by the eerie pale blue light radiating from him, Justice still held control over that body. Relm nervously swallowed. “Justice, they’re dead. It’s over. Let Anders come back out.”

Before he could respond, Tislin stepped out of hiding. Her shawl had fallen off sometime during the ensuing chaos, revealing her bruised face. Her injuries only served to highlight the mix of fear and disgust as she looked over at Anders. “An abomination. Who lets a demon into their own body?”

“ **Demon?”** Magical energy furled around Anders’s body as he strode towards her. “ **You would lump me in with their kind, as these Chantry sycophants would, and spurn the help given you?”** He seethed. **“Then you are no better than them!”**

He raised his staff, poised to strike at Tislin as she backed away, begging him to stay away.

Without a second thought, Relm used Fade Step to get in front of the blow. Just as she skidded to a halt, the staff lunged forward, the blade cutting through her shoulder and back. Relm stumbled back and screamed as magic surged forth from him and seared through her wound.

The pain made her black out. When she came to, she was on the ground, with Isabela hovering over her.

“Hawke? Come on, look at me.”

Relm blinked a few times. “What-” She attempted to push herself off the ground. She bit back another scream as pain shot through her like a blow to an anvil.

“Stay down,” Isabela said, pressing a hand to her chest. “Shit, that looked like it hurt. Never heard you scream like that.”

She inhaled deeply through her nose. “Rose and Tislin?”

“They went ahead.”

Hawke sighed in relief, glad they hadn’t gotten hurt.

From somewhere beyond Hawke’s line of sight, Anders said, “Let me see her wound.”

Isabela pursed her lips. Relm watched her eyes dart back to her, then to wherever Anders was.

“Let me,” Anders said, again, this time his tone more firm. “I’m in control again. And if she’s in that much pain, then she needs healing.”

Relm squeezed Isabela’s hand. “It’s all right.”

The pirate sighed. “Fine.”

“No worries,” Anders muttered as he appeared on Hawke’s other side. “I’m sure Merrill would happily hit me with another Stone Fist and a hex if I tried anything.”

“Well,” Merrill said, “not _happily._ I didn’t like hitting you with a flying fist…”

Ignoring her, Anders instead gently examined Relm’s wound. Guilt-ridden lines creased over his face. “We need to get you back to my clinic. That’s going to get infected, and quickly.”

“ _Wonderful,_ ” Relm muttered sarcastically. “It’s that bad?” She looked over as best as she could to see it.

The puncture wound in and of itself was nasty enough, surrounded by torn and shredded skin, but the scorched streaks that zig-zagged over her shoulder and torso added to the gory scene. She could smell the charred flesh. Hawke forced herself to look away before the nausea churning her stomach became worse.

“Come on. We’re not hanging around here then,” Isabela said. As she helped Hawke sit up, she lifted up her good arm and slung it over her shoulders. Relm winced as she got to her feet, clinging onto Isabela for dear life.

“Hopefully it’ll be quicker going back up,” Merrill said. “Everything should be cleared out of the way.”

“Let’s hope so.” Anders turned towards Hawke. “I… I’m sorry, Hawke. But I’m glad you protected those women. Whatever they must think of me, they can at least do so without fear of imprisonment here.”

Relm knew she did the right thing, and she would do it again. But the stabbing pain in her shoulder made it difficult to feel that way, so she merely grunted in response before they began the long walk back to the surface.

 

* * *

 

That wooden slab of an examination table never looked so welcoming as Isabela and Merrill helped Hawke climb onto it. Her limbs felt like pudding, but at least they had finally made it to Anders’s clinic.

Immediately he got to work on her shoulder, healing magic pouring out of his hands as he wove them over and around her wound. In her peripheral vision, she saw Isabela and Merrill plunk down onto the floor, backs to the door. Clearly they were exhausted.

“Go home,” she murmured. “There’s no reason for you two to have to stay.”

“They don’t trust me,” Anders said, not looking up from his task.

“We’re worried about Hawke,” Merrill insisted. “And one of us will need to get her back home.”

“And we’re too damn tired to make another trip,” Isabela muttered.

With that, the conversation died. Hawke closed her eyes, hoping the pain would ease up soon as Anders poured more magic into her wound. Her hand tightly gripped her shirt, and she tried to focus on something else. Anything to keep her mind off of the pain.

Eventually, it did begin to ease. The tension slowly left her body as the pain lessened, and her mind was able to focus away from it. She thought of other things, like mabari puppies and Fereldan summers. From there her thoughts wandered onto more recent memories, like the first time she witnessed a true Kirkwall storm and the way the rain pelted the windows. She remembered the first time she heard Fenris laugh, and how Varric was laughing so hard with him that he almost choked on his ale.

A sharp tug from within pulled her from her thoughts without warning. She frowned as she felt it again a few seconds later.

_Wait._

Her eyes flew open, realizing what it was.

Anders met her gaze, his brow furrowing in worry. “What is it?”

“What happened?”

Fenris’s voice lashed out like a whip as he barged into the clinic, followed closely by Aveline, Varric and Sebastian. He strode past Isabela and Merrill and immediately went to Hawke’s side.

“It was an accident,” Relm quickly supplied, trying to hide her surprise with a comforting smile. “I mis-stepped. It was my fault.”

Worry lined his eyes and brow as he leaned over her. When his gaze fell on her wound, his brow furrowed. “A mage did that,” he murmured, recognizing the still-healing scorch marks.

“An accident,” Relm stressed again.

Meanwhile, behind where Fenris stood, Aveline grilled Isabela and Merrill about where they were. “We looked for you for hours,” she said. “Since when did you lot run off without at least telling one of us where you’d gone?”

“Sorry, _mother,_ ” Isabela bit back with a roll of her eyes. “Are we going to be sent to our rooms tonight with no supper?”

“I’m being serious,” Aveline ground out. “If something had happened and none of us knew where you were…”

“That’s what _I_ said,” Merrill muttered.

Hawke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We were escorting two people out of the city. And no,” she said, aiming a sharp look at Fenris. “they weren’t apostates. Not to my knowledge, anyway.”

“That doesn’t explain the secrecy,” Aveline said. “Or-” Suddenly, she groaned and wiped a hand over her face. “Maker, don’t tell me it’s the two women who were taken into custody by the templars.”

The resounding silence answered her question.

Aveline and Fenris both cursed. At this point, Varric stepped in and said, “Look, it’s done now. Stupid decision or not, it’s over. Let’s not start a fight at two in the morning over this.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement. “We are all tired. If this warrants a discussion, it should wait.” As he said that, though, he frowned. “Though, I am still wondering how Hawke received her injury. Did you run into an apostate?”

Relm froze, mind spinning frantically as she tried to come up with something. “We-”

“It was me.”

The whole room fell alarmingly quiet as every pair of eyes turned towards Anders. He stood there, jaw clenched, looking down at the floor. No one said a word for a long, painful stretch of time. What likely was only a minute that passed felt like hours.

“It was an accident,” Relm finally said. “Really. He didn’t mean-”

Isabela sighed heavily. “It wasn’t Anders’s fault,” she said. “Justice did that.”

Fenris slowly straightened, his gaze burning as he leveled it at Anders. “That _demon_ did this?” His voice was low and level, almost frighteningly so. He took a daunting step towards the healer. “Do I not recall you saying ‘I have it under control’? Or did I not hear correctly?” He all but growled. “And now I’m hearing that it hurt Hawke?”

“Elf,” Varric warned, looking understandably uneasy.

Sebastian reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder. Fenris immediately shook him off. “I do not need restraining,” he snarled. He swiveled back towards Anders. “But I do need answers, and I will have them.”

“He wasn’t aiming for me,” Relm said. “Look, we ran into templars when we were escorting the women. And you know how well Justice plays with them. After he came out and we fought the templars, one of the women said something to anger Justice and he went after her. I got in the way.” She cautiously placed a hand on Fenris’s arm. “He wasn’t trying to hurt _me._ ”

For a moment, his fist bunched at the contact. But just as Relm went to withdraw it and apologize, he relaxed. But only by a fraction, and Relm could still feel rage rolling off of him.

“That thing still tried to hurt someone, and he lied about his control over it.” He looked back down at Relm’s wound, which still needed tending. “Heal her, mage. And then I am taking her home.”

“I was,” Anders bit out as he lifted his hands. “before you barged in.”

Relm shot him a reprimanding look. Anders shrugged, but he kept quiet as he continued healing her.

With the situation de-escalated, the others began to leave one by one, their beds calling to them. Relm said good-bye to them all, watching them leave and finding herself in an increasingly awkward silence.

The elf remained in his spot at Hawke’s side. He said nothing the whole time; he simply watched Anders, his eyes never once leaving him. It wasn’t until Anders finally finished that he moved, helping Hawke to her feet.

She looked over her shoulder and bid Anders good-bye. He nodded, mouthing another apology to her before Fenris urged her towards the exit. Leaning against him, she nodded and let him lead the way home.

 

* * *

 

Fenris said nothing else until they reached Hawke’s home and they were well inside. He broke his silence when he went to hang up her cloak. “That was reckless, what you did.”

“Better me than them, Fenris,” Hawke argued. She would not relent on that point. “They were older. If they had-”

He shook his head. “That is not what I meant.” He turned towards her, eyes and body heavy with worry. He clenched and unclenched his fist. “Aveline is right. We should have been told where you were going, especially given what you were doing.”

Hawke hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry. But we also didn’t want you to have to lie, if we did get captured and the templars began questioning people about us. And if they found a way to implicate you-”

“Of all the-” Fenris seethed, and he began to pace. “As if those of us left behind aren’t capable liars.” He paused. “…except Sebastian.” He shook his head and continued. “It doesn’t matter. Better to risk that than your safety.”

“No.”

He wheeled on her. “You thought risking your life was preferable to keeping me out of possible confinement and making me have to lie?”

Without hesitation, she simply said, “Yes.”

That stopped him cold. Whatever argument he had at the ready, it died on his tongue, and all he could do was stare at her, wide-eyed in shock.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Relm closed the distance between them. “I care about you, all right? And I’ll admit, a part of the reason I didn’t tell you was because I figured you would be upset and there’d be a fight.” She was still expecting one. “But I also didn’t – I couldn’t risk your freedom, after everything you’ve been through to get it.”

Without warning, he brought her into his arms and held her close. The contact surprised her, but she could hardly complain. She leaned against him, enjoying this rather uncharacteristic embrace.

“Bleeding heart,” he muttered. “I am… not thrilled about what you did,” he admitted. “But I am more upset over what _he_ did.” His hold tightened. “His being your friend is his only saving grace, and it thins with each passing day. I cannot understand what you see in him.”

She snorted softly.

“What?”

“He said the same thing about you.” The two men were more alike than either would ever care to admit, or want to hear.

“Hn. And what did you tell him?”

“That you were my friend, like he is.” She leaned back slightly to look at Fenris. “Not that there… isn’t more to it than that, but I figured you wouldn’t want me delving into the finer details.”

“No, I’d rather that mage not hear about our private affairs.” He cupped her cheek, running a thumb over her bottom lip. “Though I say this knowing the others will inevitably find out.”

At Hawke’s sheepish look, he groaned. “Don’t tell me-”

“I wouldn’t say they _know_ , per se,” she said. “But… Varric very strongly suspects something…”

“Which means Isabela does, too,” Fenris continued. “Which will result in her telling Merrill, and Merrill will inevitably run her mouth.”

“Probably by accident.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever her intention, it’ll happen.”

He sounded displeased at the idea, and it made her heart sink. “Is…”

He must have sensed her hurt, because he bumped his head against hers and said, “I am not ashamed. I simply… am not looking forward to the inane prodding and the ridiculous looks we will be getting. Having this just between us, without everything and everyone else involved, makes it easier.” He brushed his nose against hers. “But I need to accept that that is just part of it, however annoying that part may be.”

“They’d only do it out of love.”

“And to annoy.”

“Same difference.”

They both shared a chuckle for a moment. Hawke leaned back into him, and Fenris laid his head on top of hers. They stood there for a time, basking in the contentment that somehow found its way in, despite what had happened that night.

Fenris broke the silence, hesitantly saying, “I… did not think that I would ever want anyone so much. Or need anyone.” His fingers traced lines up and down her arm. “But I… I want this.”

The words were a balm, and nothing could have stopped that smile from blooming on her face. “So do I.” Her voice slightly shook from giddiness.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I am glad.”

She felt the doubts and questions begin to surface: would he truly not mind being with a mage, or being with someone who believed in soul mates? And then there was the issue of whether or not she’d ever tell him the truth. But she shoved those worries down; there would be time to address them later. Tonight, she wanted to simply enjoy this moment and all that came with it.

 

* * *

 

When Relm finally stumbled into bed, she thought she’d be too tired to dream. But the Fade had other ideas.

She found herself in a cave. It was dark, save for a dim source of light far away. She ran towards it, her footsteps echoing in the nothingness around her. It felt like the light wouldn’t draw near, no matter how long she ran for.

Suddenly the light rushed up towards her. It came from a room where thick chains hung from the ceiling. In the center of the room knelt a figure covered in blood. With his back turned towards her, Relm didn’t recognize him right away, not until she spotted the mop of silver hair that shone under the sheen of blood.

“Fenris!” she cried out, sprinting towards him. She slid to a stop in front of him, gently touching his face.

He was completely drenched in blood. Hawke realized that his lyrium markings were gone, replaced by thick, long gashes across his skin. Her whole body shook as she tried to reach for one of the cuffs that bound him. “I’m here. I’ll get you-”

Something entered the room; she could tell by the chill that crawled up her spine. She frantically looked around, trying to find who or what it was.

“Danarius always gets what he wants.”

A hauntingly familiar voice slithered its way from somewhere in the darkness. Relm froze as she saw a woman emerge from the shadows. Pale blue eyes framed by thick brown hair watched her. “ _Always._ ”

_You._ Relm roared in rage, lunging for the woman-

She woke up with a start, choking back a scream as her mind jerked forward into the waking world. Cold dread clutched her heart as she curled up into a ball, trying to tell herself it was a dream and it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Next chapter, Fenris will be getting a visitor from his past.


	15. Dredged Up Old Haunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadriana brings out the worst in Fenris, and Relm pays for it.

The nightmare haunted her, even days after it had passed. A feeling of apprehension followed her. Even when she could clearly see Fenris was safe, she couldn’t shake it.

A distraction was needed. One of her old contacts who made potions for her asked her to gather some resources for him. In exchange, he would give her some recipes. She agreed and decided to head to the Sundermount. She figured beating the snot out of some wildlife and undead would help with the perpetual uneasiness.

She dragged Fenris, Varric and Merrill along. In addition to the fighting, she goaded Varric into talking her ear off in the hopes that it would also help keep her mind occupied.

In that regard, Varric never failed to serve. His stories and anecdotes kept her and the elves entertained well throughout the day. Even late in the afternoon as they approached the base of the Sundermount, he was still going. Hawke intently listened; Merrill and Fenris hung back, their progress slowed a little by their bare feet.

“And that’s more or less how Bartrand wound up with thirty gold-plated nug feet.” Varric chuckled to himself before looking over at Hawke. “Not to sound like I’m complaining, but you’ve been having me talk your ear off all day,” he added. “Think my throat’s going dry.”

“Just feeling chatty, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

Varric was about to open his mouth to respond when they both faintly heard Fenris snap, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hawke dared a glance over her shoulder. Some ways behind them, though not so far they were out of earshot, she saw Merrill giggle.

“You’re in love,” she said to him with a knowing smile.

“I am not!” Fenris shot back.

The words cut through Relm. She knew he didn’t mean it viciously, but it still hurt to hear. She tried to swallow it, fighting to keep her expression neutral as she stared straight ahead of her. _It’s fine, that’s to be expected,_ she told herself.

Varric rolled his eyes. “Oh, _please_ , elf,” he muttered to himself, though loud enough for Hawke to hear.

Merrill seemed to be in accord. “Every time Hawke looks away, you stare at her with those sad puppy eyes.”

“There are no puppy eyes.”

Relm’s stoicism faltered. She shot Varric a hopeful look. He smirked and nodded.

“It’s all right, you know,” the Dalish elf said, the smile so evident in her voice. “Even you can be happy once in a while. It won't kill you.” She paused, before adding, “But your face might crack if you smile, so be careful.”

Despite trying to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping, Varric couldn’t help but laugh. Even Relm fought to suppress a chuckle. The dwarf looked over his shoulder and clapped. “Bravo, Daisy. I knew you had it in you.”

Relm glanced back and found Fenris looking away uneasily. When he did finally meet her gaze, with his brow furrowed worriedly, she smiled in understanding. _It’s all right._

In return, he offered her that sweet, dimpled smile of his. Without realizing it, Relm’s steps slowed. Merrill walked past her, but Relm hesitated until Fenris caught up to her. She fell into step alongside of him, feeling a little more at ease by his side.

Merrill struck up a conversation with Varric. Relm began to listen in, but her thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt when she felt a hand slide into hers. Almost unable to believe it, she looked down and, sure enough, Fenris’s fingers were interlaced with hers. She felt her cheeks heat a little.

“If you do not-”

“No!” Relm protested, squeezing his hand hard to emphasize her point. “No, I… I just wasn’t expecting it.” She beamed. “But I’m glad.”

Fenris said nothing else, merely nodding before looking ahead, hand still in hers.

Relm did the same, and in doing so found Varric and Merrill looking back at them. The elf was smiling, clearly pleased and quite happy for them. The dwarf wore an insufferable smirk.

 _Oh, I’ll be hearing about this later._ But Relm hardly cared. She felt fit to burst, but in a good way. She felt giddy and light, almost half-expecting herself to start floating from the feelings that bubbled in her. If her steps seemed a little bouncy, if she wore a smile that wouldn’t fade, no one said anything, and that was just fine with her. Nothing could ruin her mood, she thought.

At least until they began to climb the mountain.

It came upon her like a snake in the grass. Just as they started up the path, heavy dread crawled through her, halting her steps and freezing her in place. Her grip on Fenris’s hand tightened, forcing him to stop.

“Hawke?” he murmured.

It felt familiar. She suddenly was reminded of that day on the road, where she felt that dread. That day when Danarius came back for Fenris.

 _Damn it, I should have known this feeling wasn’t my paranoia!_ “Fenris, we need to-”

“Stop right there!”

From the ledges above, several armed men accompanied by a mage appeared. Relm’s blood turned to ice.

“Hunters,” Fenris snarled. He let go of Relm’s hand and turned to face the group.

The leader crossed his arms. “You lot are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave and you’ll be spared.”

“I am _not_ your slave!” Fenris shouted, his markings pulsing as he reached for his sword.

“Kill them!” The leader shouted, signaling for his men to charge. “The slave doesn’t matter, but his markings are valuable!”

Relm’s magic surged through her. “No!” she screamed before she wildly swung her arm and cast out a lightning chain, striking a few of the men on the ledge.

She barely knew what she was doing. She simply cast magic left and right, hitting whatever slaver she could and making sure they didn’t harm Fenris. The whole battle blurred before her in a haze of anger and blood.

“Easy, Hawke,” Varric said, putting a hand on her arm when she wildly spun, looking for more to kill. “They’re dead.”

A choked groan emanated from the mage that had accompanied the group.

“…well, almost.”

Fenris strode over towards the man, grabbing him by his hair and yanking his head back until he could see his eyes. “ _Where_ is he?” he demanded, punctuating his question by slamming the man’s head into the ground.

“Please don’t kill me,” the mage begged.

“ _Tell me!_ ”

“I don’t know!” he pleaded. “I don’t know, I swear!” He swallowed nervously. “Hadriana brought us. She’s in the holding caves, north of the city. I can show you the way.”

 _Hadriana._ Immediately the blue-eyed woman appeared in Relm’s mind, sneering and laughing. “So that was her name,” Relm unwittingly muttered under her breath.

She failed to notice Varric glancing over at her, understandably confused.

Fenris, meanwhile, had had enough of the interrogation. He refused the man’s offer, and when the mage pleaded for his life, Fenris merely said, “You chose the wrong master,” before snapping his neck in half.

Relm winced.

With his back to her and the others, Fenris’s fists bunched at his side. “Hadriana.” Venom filled his voice as he suddenly spun on his heel, a snarl in his features as he continued, “I was a fool to think I was free! They’ll never let me be!”

“Who is she?” Merrill asked.

“She was my old master’s apprentice,” Fenris said, sneering as he looked away. “I remember her well: a sniveling social climber who’d sell her own children if it pleased Danarius. If she’s here, it’s at his bidding. I knew he wouldn’t let this go!”

It was no wonder dread had dogged her. Hadriana must have arrived some time ago, planning a trap for Fenris. He would not be safe until she was dealt with.

“What are we waiting for?” Relm said.

He nodded. “We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare… or flee.”

Varric sighed. “Just once, why can’t we just come to pick up a few things and leave without something or someone trying to kill us?”

 

* * *

 

They hurried to the holding caves, Fenris leading the way as they climbed and weaved their way through the mountainside.

Relm mentally kicked herself the whole way there, angry that she hadn’t taken the warning seriously. But she had thought that the surge of feelings her father told her about would go away with the dreams once she met Fenris. Clearly that was not the case.

It was something she would have to think on later.

They entered the caves, unsurprisingly running into a mix of demons and undead. Hadriana knew they were coming. The four of them tore their way through, Fenris as determined as ever to get to her.

Deeper inside the caves, they came upon some of Hadriana’s servants closing in on a young elven woman. She screamed in terror. Fortunately, the arrival of Hawke’s group drew the servants’ attention away from the elf and onto them. A decision which, as usual, left them very dead by the time Hawke and her friends were through.

Fenris strode up to the young woman. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”

“They’ve been killing everyone,” she sobbed. “They cut papa, bled him…”

Relm grimaced, remembering the body they had seen earlier on a slab. “Maker’s balls…”

“Why?” Fenris shook his head. “Why would they do this?”

“The magister… she said she needed power. That someone was coming to kill her.” The elven woman wrung her hands. “I think she’s very frightened.”

“She has every reason to be,” Fenris snarled.

“Please don’t hurt her! She’ll be so angry if you hurt her!”

Relm decided to step in. “This must be terrible for you. Please, do you know if the magister is still here?”

“I… think so,” she answered. “I just don’t understand. Everything was fine until today!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Fenris murmured. “You just didn’t know any better.”

The woman looked at him, her expression hopeful. “Are you my master now?”

The suggestion was almost comical, in a very dark, twisted way. Still, Relm hardly blamed Fenris as he sharply denied her.

“But I can cook!” she said. “And I can clean! What else will I do?”

 _Shit, she’s helpless._ Relm blew out a breath. Letting the woman out into the world was a bad idea. She clearly was never on her own, and she wore her naivety on her sleeve. _…wait, she said she could cook?_

“If you go to Kirkwall,” Relm said, seeing the opportunity for what it was. “I can help you.” She gave the woman her address and how to find her estate. “Tell Bodahn at the door that I sent you, and wait for me.”

“Yes?” the woman beamed. “Oh, praise the Maker! Thank you!”

“The way out should be clear,” Relm continued. “Just be careful on the road.”

The elf nodded, thanking her again before making a run for it.

Relm was quite pleased with herself… until she turned and saw the look on Fenris’s face.

“I didn’t realize you were in the market for a slave.”

For a moment, Relm just stood there in shock, unable to believe that he was actually accusing her of that. Very rarely did she have the urge to strike any of her friends (with serious intent, anyway), and rarer still that the feeling was aimed at Fenris. Now was one of those times.

“I gave her a _job_ , Fenris,” she ground out, hoping he damn well knew that she was pissed at his suggestion.

Luckily, it seemed he got the message. His eyes widened briefly, before he stammered, “Ah, then… that’s good. I apologize.”

She huffed out a breath. “Apology accepted. I will pay her, and frankly, she needed a place to go, and I desperately needed someone other than Bodahn's cooking.”

He gestured to the door on the other side of the room. “Let’s find Hadriana, and be done with this place.”

 

* * *

 

The ever thickening horde of undead and demons coming at them signaled that they were getting close to the magister. Relm swore she’d never get the stench of them off of her, even if she took thirty baths.

After dealing with the latest batch, Relm carefully stepped over them, forging ahead while Fenris assisted Varric in pulling an arrow out of one of them. She half-expected that Hadriana had fled by now, so she didn’t think much of it when she came to the end of the hallway and pushed on the door, only to find it locked.

She frowned. With a flick of her wrist she froze the handle, then bashed it with her staff to break off the nob. She nudged it open and took a few steps inside.

And there stood the witch on the other side of the room, staff in hand and looking, as the elven slave described, very frightened.

“Who are you?” Hadriana demanded.

Relm stood rooted in her spot. _It’s actually her._ This was no dream; she was seeing the woman with her own two eyes.

“I can offer you a deal,” the magister hastily said, seizing upon Relm’s shock. “That elf you’re traveling with is worth a small fortune to his master. If you aid me with his capture, I’ll personally ensure you’re handsomely rewarded.”

The disgusting offer snapped Relm out of her shock. Her lips curled back into a snarl. “Not a chance. The only one who wants you dead more than I do is Fenris.”

“You’re a fool for-”

Relm bellowed Fenris’s name as she whipped out her staff, readying it for battle. “I know what you and that monster did to him.”

Magic flowed from Hadriana’s hands. Relm recognized it as a summoning spell. “And just what did he tell you, hm?”

“Nothing,” Relm murmured. “He didn’t have to. I saw it.” She met Hadriana’s startled look with a hard glare. “I saw everything, and I swear, that monster is never getting his hands on him again.”

Just as Relm took a step towards Hadriana, Fenris burst into the room, sword already at the ready. He sneered when he saw Hadriana. “ _You!_ ”

Hadriana completed her spell, screaming at her newly summoned demons to kill him.

Relm threw up a barrier just as Varric and Merrill came running in, and with everyone in the room, the battle kicked into full swing. Fenris launched himself at Hadriana, swinging and cutting at her when he could. Relm, for her part, just tried to keep the demons and undead off of Fenris (and of course, she took potshots at Hadriana when she could).

Hadriana threw everything she had at them; Relm felt the curl of flame, the burn of electricity, and the sting of ice throughout the battle and more. As they took out wave after wave of her minions, her desperation increased. At one point, she even cut herself and drew on her blood to bring down a maelstrom of fire.

But for all her spells and tricks, ultimately she lost.

One final arrow from Bianca knocked her to the ground. Clutching her now pierced side, Hadriana moaned and tried to reach for her staff.

Fenris stepped in between her and her weapon, raising his own to strike her down for good.

“Wait!” she pleaded, raising a hand in defense. “You do not want me dead!”

“There’s only one person I want dead more.”

“I have information, elf, and I would trade it for my life!”

Unease stirred in Hawke’s gut.

Fenris snorted. “The location of Danarius? What good will that do me? I’d rather he lose his pet pupil.”

“You have a sister!” Hadriana scooted back, keeping her eyes on him. “She is alive!”

Relm’s mouth dropped slightly. She could still remember her, though it’d been years since she last saw her in a dream. The last thing she remembered of her were her tearful sobs as Danarius’s men led Fenris away.

Fenris lowered his weapon in shock. Relm quickly stepped over to him, staring down Hadriana.

“You wish to reclaim your life? Let me go,” Hadriana bargained, “and I’ll tell you where she is.” She sat up, doing her best to look sincere.

Hawke glanced over at Fenris, then back at Hadriana. _Shit. Shit shit shit shit._ Maker, she wanted that woman dead, but she also did not want Fenris to lose this opportunity to get something of his old life back. Yet it put her in a perilous position; she could not tell Fenris to just trust Hadriana. She knew it wasn’t that simple for him. _She_ knew that he had a sister, but she couldn’t very well tell him that.

Not for the last time, she almost wished she had told him the truth. At least then she could verify Hadriana’s claims.

She turned to Fenris, swallowing. “This is your call,” she said. “Though…” She paused, wondering how to word what she wanted to say. “For all that you may hate her, try not to let that entirely influence your decision.”

Fenris looked at the ground for a moment, considering. Then, without a word, he stepped towards Hadriana and leaned down.

Her eyes brightened. “Then I have your word? I tell you, and you’ll let me go?”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “You have my word.”

Relm bit on her lower lip.

Hadriana breathed a sigh of relief. “Her name is Varania,” she said. “She lives in Qarinus, serving a magister by the name of Ahriman.”

 _Varania._ Another face from her dreams that finally had a name. Relm nodded to herself. _Yes, that sounds right._

“A servant.” Fenris’s brow furrowed. “Not a slave.”

“She’s not a slave.”

Fenris nodded as he began to glow blue. “I believe you.”

Relm and Hadriana’s eyes both widened at the same time as he punched his fist through the magister’s heart. She let out a choked gasp before her eyes rolled to the back of her head. When he ripped his fist back out, she slumped over dead.

Merrill covered a hand over her mouth. “Oh, but he…”

Varric shook his head, cutting her off.

Fenris stood up. His expression was eerily calm as he turned and began to walk towards the exit. “We’re done here,” he said.

Relm ripped her gaze away from Hadriana’s body and made to move towards Fenris. “Hey, do you want to… talk about this?”

He spun, anger and fire directed at her as he spat, “No, I don’t want to talk about it! This very well could be a trap. Danarius may have sent her to tell me about this ‘sister’.” He shook his head. “Even if he didn’t, trying to find her would be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and he must know that Hadriana knew!”

Relm sighed softly. He was right. Though Varania was real, any attempts to find her could be intercepted by Danarius. It would be a huge risk.

He glared down at Hadriana’s corpse. “All that matters is that I finally got to crush that bitch’s heart. May she rot, and all the other mages with her.”

His words yet again hit her hard. Relm nearly stumbled back from the implication, hating that she could feel the corners of her eyes sting. _He’s just talking out of anger. He doesn’t mean you._ Yet, a doubting voice countered, _Or does he?_

Swallowing her hurt, Relm gently reached out and touched his arm. “We should leave.”

Fenris threw her arm off, stepping away from her. “I don’t want you comforting me.” He jabbed a finger at Hadriana. “You saw what was done here. There’s always going to be a reason, some excuse for why mages need to do this.”

“That shouldn’t be a reason not to look for your sister,” Relm said, hating how her voice shook.

“Isn’t it?” Fenris spat. “Even if I did find her, who knows what the magisters have done to her? What has magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?”

That latest blow stunned her into silence. Relm tightly clenched her jaw, taking a step back from him. It took everything she had to not cry; she _refused_ to do so in front of him. But already she sensed she was fighting a losing battle. She turned her back to him, arms crossed and effectively shutting him out before he could do more damage.

She couldn’t see the look on his face, but she heard the ache in his voice as he said, “I… need to go.” Without a further word, he left.

“I can’t _believe_ he said those things,” Merrill said. Anger rare of her seeped into her tone as she stepped towards Hawke. “How could he be so cruel, especially to you?”

Relm inhaled deeply, fighting for some semblance of inner calm.

“Talk about speaking out of anger,” Varric said when the quiet hung for just a little too long. “He’s got reason to be, but still… Daisy has a point. That was out of line.”

She turned towards Hadriana’s body, trying to draw relief from watching her blood seep into the stone floor. All the horrible things she did to Fenris for all those years… Relm hardly blamed him for getting so upset. Seeing that woman had made Relm feel like she was back in those dreams; she could only imagine how Fenris had felt. She glanced down at her hand, the one Fenris held just hours earlier. It felt like another lifetime ago already; a distant memory that seemed too good to be true.

She snapped out of her thought and rubbed that hand over her face. “Seeing her must have brought it all back for him, all that rage and pain.”

“He must have really hated her,” Merrill murmured. “Went back on his word and everything, just to have a chance to kill her.”

 _That_ hadn’t entirely surprised Relm. She supposed she should be less than pleased that he outright lied, but frankly-

“She deserved it,” Relm spat. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m done with this place.” She was ready to leave it – and Hadriana and all the terrible memories tied to her – behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy vey, Fenris.
> 
> Stay tuned for next time to see how these two resolve THIS particular issue.


	16. Forging Ahead and Not Looking Back

Relm was noticing a very uncomfortable pattern emerging whenever she and Fenris were at odds. One of them would get upset, and then they wouldn’t talk for days at a time. It happened again after their confrontation with Hadriana, and she found herself wondering if this was at all healthy.

Despite the revelation, she found herself at a loss as to what say to him. She understood where his anger was coming from, and she didn’t want to belittle it. However, that left the issue of her own anger and hurt. Was she expected to ignore it, just for Fenris’s sake?

“Fucking Maker,” she spat one day at home, glaring at her open sketchbook. She had been trying to draw, as she had fallen out of practice. _Trying_ being the key word. No matter what she tried to sketch, her mind kept drifting back to what Fenris had said: _What has magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?_ Her fist curled on the table.

She turned and nearly jumped when she saw Leandra hovering in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Leandra said, moving towards her daughter. “I heard you swear. Is everything all right?”

Relm nodded.

Unconvinced, Leandra perched herself on the arm of the chair Relm was sitting in. She gave Relm that motherly, scolding look, making the younger shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“…just upset about something a friend said to me.”

“What did they say?”

“He asked me, ‘What has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled?’.” Maker, it still hurt just to say it. “Words said in anger, but still…”

Leandra brushed a strand of hair from Relm’s forehead. “That wasn’t kind of him at all. Are you sure this is someone you want to be friends with? If he found out you’re a mage-”

“He knows.”

Leandra’s hand froze, eyes wide. “Relm-”

“He’s one of the ones I ‘run around with’, as you say. He won’t say anything to the templars.” Of that she was assured, if nothing else.

Her mother sighed.

“He won’t,” Relm insisted. “We’ve known each other for over a year. If he hasn’t talked now, he won’t. Trust me.”

Leandra assented, albeit hesitantly. Concern shadowed her eyes as she spoke, “Perhaps so, but then it’s all the crueler what he said, knowing you have magic. It can be a burden at times, and a danger, but to say it spoils everything ignores the good it can do.”

“He was very upset. I don’t think he meant it… entirely.”

“Maybe so, but last I checked, that doesn’t excuse him, or gets him out of apologizing.” Leandra tutted and tapped Relm’s forehead. “If he can make his grievances known, so can you.”

Rarely did the two of them see eye to eye, and more often than not, Relm blocked out her mother’s advice. But now she found herself considering what she said. “So I should confront him?”

“How about just try talking to him first?” Leandra suggested with a wry shake of her head. “Sometimes, with men, you have to hit them over the head with a proverbial frying pan about things. One day, when you’re married, you’ll know.”

Relm snorted softly, but nodded. She thanked her mother and watched her leave, twirling her charcoal in between her fingers as she mulled over what she told her.

 

* * *

 

That following evening, she set out to do just as Leandra told her. Plans derailed, however, when Varric intercepted her to bring her the news: Bartrand was back in town.

Grievances and hurts could wait; vengeance took priority at the moment.

At least, that’s how Relm had pictured that night going. But after scouring the manse the dwarf had holed himself up in, she slowly began to suspect things were not going to be so simple. When they finally found Bartrand, talking to himself and clearly paranoid, Relm wrote off the revenge rampage as a bust.

Anders did what he could for the dwarf, but his magic only helped for a short time. Luckily, it lasted long enough for Bartrand to beg his brother for help, and for Varric, despite his anger, to relent and promise to get him to a sanitarium.

“That’s not how I pictured that going,” Relm admitted as they exited the mansion late that night. “I suppose I should be angry, but in a way I almost feel sorry for him.”

“He got what he deserved,” Anders muttered. “And… more than that. Varric, is there any way we can track down that lyrium idol? If he sold that…”

Varric rubbed his hands up and down his face. “Blondie, believe me, I’m going to try, but we might be looking for a needle in a haystack.” Suddenly he cursed and kicked the wall. “I’m sick of this shit. Between looking for you guys when you decided to play fugitive escort and how that went-”

Anders grimaced. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“-all the building tension with the Qunari, that crap with Hadriana, and now this?” Varric threw his hands in the air. “We need a break, and since life seems to keep kicking us in the teeth, we’re gonna make our own break.”

Isabela, who’d been unusually quiet up until now, raised a brow. “And you plan on doing that by…?”

“Rivaini, I’m hurt.” Varric dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “We’ve known each other for this long and you haven’t even the slightest idea?”

“So,” Anders chuckled. “it’s going to involve alcohol – which means the Hanged Man – and probably Wicked Grace.”

Relm piped up, “Uh… well, as much as I _enjoy_ the swill there, maybe we can have some actually decent drinks? Like wine?”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Hawke, some of us can’t-”

“I’ll bring it and it’ll be free.”

“…nevermind. Count me in.”

Anders clapped his hands together. “Oh! How about some music? Clear a space in the tavern and bring in some minstrels?”

“Think the owner will go for that?” Relm said.

Varric waved his hand. “She will if I pay for it. And besides, dancing makes people thirsty.” He smiled, nodding along as he thought about it. “Yeah, I like this. Something more fun than ordinary and to get our minds off all this crap. Tomorrow night, then. I’ll get everything ready.”

Despite how tired she felt, Relm smiled widely in excitement. A real fun night out sounded just like what they all needed.

“I’ll let Merrill know,” Isabela said. “And the big girl, if I see her.”

“I’ll be in Hightown tomorrow at the Chantry,” Anders said. “Though I doubt he’ll come, I’ll tell Sebastian. And I can pop into the Viscount’s Keep and tell Aveline.”

Varric slid a glance at Hawke. A beat passed, and then he said, “I can let the elf know.”

She knew what he was trying to do, and she appreciated it, but she shook her head. “No, I’ll tell him. I… need to speak with him anyway.”

“Good luck,” Varric said under his breath before turning. “Right. I’ve got a letter to write before I promptly pass out in my bed.”

They all bid their good-byes before splitting off. Relm drew her cloak tighter around her before she set off towards her estate. For a moment, she considered stopping by Fenris’s, but the idea left as soon as it came. It was late, and frankly, she needed sleep before she opened that can of worms.

Her boots clacked on the stone path, echoing in the relative quiet. She glanced about her often, watching the shadows for any sign of lurking bandits or thugs looking for an easy target. Thankfully, she encountered none such company and made it home without anything noteworthy happening.

She quietly eased open the front door, stepping inside gently as to not wake anyone-

-including the sleeping elf on the entryway bench.

Relm froze midway inside, eyes blinking in incomprehension. That was most definitely Fenris dozing off there. What she failed to understand was _why_ he was sleeping in her entryway.

His ear twitched, and his eyes flew open, body tensing at the ready. Hawke remained still, not wanting to spook him. After a moment, he relaxed and rubbed his eyes. “You’re quite late,” he murmured as he got to his feet.

Relm came inside and shut the door behind her. “Is everything all right?” she asked, quickly walking up to him.

He nodded. “I came here to speak with you. Though I would have waited until tomorrow if I had known you would be gone for so long.”

“Something came up. Bartrand’s in town.” She told him what happened earlier, from when Varric pulled her aside to give her the news up until they left Bartrand in his estate, half-crazed and waiting for someone to come get him.

When she finished, Fenris shook his head. “All of that, only for him to be driven mad.”

“Figures, doesn’t it?” Relm shrugged off her cloak, placing it on a rack. “So why are you here? You wanted to speak with me?”

He shifted nervously, looking away from her. “I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana. I… took my anger out on you, undeservedly so. I was not myself. I’m sorry.”

Relm briefly lifted her brow. She honestly expected to have to confront him herself. “…thank you for apologizing.” She was tempted to leave it at just that, but she remembered what Leandra had told her, and thus she continued, “I understand you were really angry and shaken up over what happened, but that really hurt, what you said.”

Fenris’s eyes remained locked on the floor, but he nodded. “I know. My anger compelled me to lash out, to strike back. You were… the easiest target. But I know you simply wanted to help, and you didn’t deserve my anger over it.” Finally, he lifted his eyes. “Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep… Because of her status, I was powerless to stop her and she knew it.”

Relm remembered as much. The mocking insults still rang clear in her memory.

“The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now… I couldn’t let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?” _Why would you have wanted to?_

“This… hate.” Fenris huffed out a sigh, arms on his hips as he looked away again. “I thought I’d gotten away from it, but it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside me… it was too much to bear.” Suddenly he waved his had dismissively, turning his body away and towards the door. “But I didn’t come here to burden you further.”

“Fenris.” His name was sharp on her tongue as she strode over and pulled up next to him. “You’re not a burden, not ever. That’s not how this works.” A hand reached out to touch him, but she pulled it back, hesitant to initiate contact after he shrugged her off that day. “I’d rather you talk to me than keep everything pent up.”

His eyes followed her hand. Understanding her caution, he reached out and took her hand in his. As their fingers intertwined, Hawke felt a sense of calm settle into her. That bit of contact seemed to relax Fenris as well; she could see his shoulders sag and his ears droop ever so slightly. They stayed like that a moment, each watching the other for some sort of sign as to how to proceed. Both watched for hesitation or discomfort in the other, and when they found neither, wordlessly they moved into an embrace. Relm settled herself as best she could against his armor (he never left his mansion without it), but despite the precarious positioning, she felt better than she had in days.

She felt his lips move through her hair, finally placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I truly am sorry for how I acted towards you.”

Relm nodded against him. “It’s all right.”

They let the silence hang for long minutes, content to just be in each other’s arms and let the negative feelings leftover from that awful day drain from their minds.

At some point, Relm realized she must have nodded off, because she found herself startled into awake by Fenris nudging her.

“Clearly it’s time for bed,” he said with a chuckle.

Hawke protested with a grunt, burying her face into his neck. “You’re so warm though,” she murmured sleepily.

“I imagine a blanket would be warmer.”

“You’re cuddlier.”

“Even with the armor?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, if you’d take it off, we wouldn’t have that problem.” Relm stiffened, wondering for a moment if she pushed just a bit too-

Fenris cut her off with a kiss, his hand grasping the back of her head and pulling her closer to him. When he pulled away, his lips hovered just above hers. “Tempting, as always.”

“What’s stopping you?”

He considered her question, eyes roving over her. Finally he said, “In the past, I did not feel ready. And I did not want to leap into anything merely on a whim.” He brushed his nose against hers. “Tonight, though, the only thing stopping me is how tired we both are. I do not think we would… enjoy each other as much as we should in this state.”

As much as Relm hated to, she had to concede to his point. Ten to one her head would hit the pillow and she’d pass out before anything could start. “True. Damn you, Bartrand, and your untimely return.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Indeed.”

“Oh, that reminds me, before you leave…” She told him about Varric’s plans for tomorrow night. “It’ll be quite the party. And I’ll be bringing wine.”

The hesitation she saw creep into his expression vanished at the mention of wine. He nodded, convinced. “I’ll make sure to be there.”

Relm beamed. “Good. Now, go home and get plenty of sleep. We’re going to need it tomorrow night.”

As she walked him to the door, happily reciprocating a good-night kiss, she thought on their conversation. They were in a much better place now. Not perfect, but at least in a position where they could move forward. And there in her doorway, as she watched Fenris disappear into the Kirkwall night, she swore that nothing was going to come between them and prevent them from progressing.


	17. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: mounting sexual frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. Real life kicked me in the teeth last month, and then this chapter decided to be a pain. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy, and thanks again for all the comments and kudos for last chapter!

Relm looked forward to the chaos and the carousing tonight. She needed the happy distraction; she suspected they all did.

When she arrived at the Hanged Man, she wasn’t disappointed.

Clapping and a fast-paced song greeted her when she pushed open the door. The tables and chairs had been pushed back, leaving space for a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room. The tavern wasn’t built for dancing, but its occupants seemed to work around it just fine. Laughter and chatter played off each other as patrons weaved to and from the counter, ale flowing out with them.

“Hawke!” Varric’s voice boomed over the tumult. She found him waving her over to his table. Whether by bribery, charm, or both, he secured them a large table that marginally had more space around it than the others did.

She elbowed her way over, her arms full with two bottles of wine. The others cheered when she reached them and set the bottles down. Everyone but Aveline was there, even Sebastian, to her immense surprise.

“How did they convince _you_ to come?” she asked him.

“Anders spoke to me about this. I have found myself longing for a bit of revelry.” He smiled slightly. “I might even indulge in a glass of wine, especially considering you brought one of my favorite vintages.”

“You’re going to be the life of the party, aren’t you?” Isabela remarked drolly as she indicated to Hawke to slide a bottle down to her.

Relm did as Isabela asked before taking a seat next to Fenris. She offered him a smile in greeting, which he returned.

“You are well, I hope?” he asked.

“I am.” She reached over and grabbed the other bottle of wine, popping it open. “Is it safe to say you’d like some?”

As expected, he took the offered bottle and took a drink from it. Relm raised a brow at him, and to answer he shrugged. “No wine glasses here.”

Relm laughed, taking the bottle back from him and taking a sip in turn.

With the wine passing around and Varric breaking out his deck of cards, they began the night with their usual few rounds of Wicked Grace, followed by Diamondback. They narrowly avoided playing the “strip” versions of each, though Relm suspected that might change later in the night.

She’d never been a particularly great card player, but tonight she hardly cared. Sitting next to Fenris made it hard to concentrate anyway. Occasionally their elbows or hands would brush when they made their plays, setting off goosebumps in their wake. Memories of last night kept turning over in her mind.

_Maker_ she wanted him. But she ultimately would leave that decision up to him. She knew of his history, and how touch would make his lyrium markings ache. Of course, given what he said the previous night…

“Hawke. Your turn.”

She snapped her head up, smiling apologetically at Anders before looking at her cards. Her hand sucked, and with a huff she tossed her cards in. “I’m out.” Likely for the better. She wasn’t playing at her best and that hardly made it fun for the others.

Relaxing against her chair, she turned and watched Fenris play. Feeling a little emboldened by the wine, she laid her head against his shoulder to get a better look. He glanced over at her, brushing his nose against her hair before looking back at his hand.

For the first few minutes she was content to just watch, witnessing just how he played the game. But the smell of him, and their proximity, made her mind drift back to its earlier thoughts. Suppressing a smile, she slowly moved her hand down under the table and gently placed it on Fenris’ thigh.

For a moment, he didn’t react. Worried she’d pushed too far, she started to retract her hand.

Setting his cards down, Fenris made to look like he was going to scratch an itch. But as soon as his hand went under the table, he grabbed Relm’s, fingers tightening over her palm. Subtly he moved her hand back to his thigh and pressed it against it.

As he picked his cards back up with his free hand, Relm smiled and went back to watching him play, her fingers tracing lazy circles over his thigh the entire time.

The match ended with Isabela triumphantly announcing, “And this game is mine.” She laid out her cards, sweeping the game.

Merrill stretched her arms as the others cursed their inferior hands (and made one or two accusations of cheating). “I like cards,” she said, “but I think it’d be fun to do some dancing.”

“With you there, kitten.” Isabela shoved back her chair from the table. “We’ve been sitting for long enough. Come on you lot. Who else is in?”

Relm hopefully looked up at Fenris, though she suspected she hoped in vain. He seemed less than thrilled at the prospect, nervously glancing at the dance floor and pointedly away from her.

“Oh come on, elf,” Varric butted in when he saw Fenris’ hesitation. “What about all those dance moves you claimed to be choreographing in your mansion?”

“I was joking,” Fenris said in a deadpan tone.

At that moment, Sebastian stood up and offered Relm his hand. “Perhaps while Fenris decides on what he’d like to do, you wouldn’t mind indulging me in one dance?”

Sebastian seemed to be full of surprises tonight. “Sure,” Relm assented as she took his hand, giving Fenris a departing smile before following him out onto the floor.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Isabela and Merrill follow behind them, Isabela’s arm slung around Merrill’s shoulders. Sebastian turned and offered Relm a little bow before they got into position and began to dance. Ever the gentleman, Sebastian kept her at an arm’s distance, hands very modestly placed on her.

“Throwing caution to the wind tonight?” Relm teased as they moved.

“I suppose the atmosphere is getting to me,” he admitted with a chuckle. “One dance surely cannot harm.” He paused as he guided them around another pair of dancers. “Though I must admit, there is an ulterior motive. I hoped perhaps he would more strongly consider dancing with you if he saw you out here.”

Relm raised a brow at that. “You were hoping to make him jealous?”

“No no no, nothing like that.” Sebastian clicked his tongue before continuing, “Rather, I hope by seeing you dancing – because I am certain you make for a lovely sight – he would be more compelled to join.”

“You’re a good friend to him, Sebastian.”

“I endeavor to get him to enjoy life more. I would hate to see him squander his freedom because of shyness or insecurity.” He gently twirled her before bringing her back. “And a man who is that enamored with someone should never waste a chance to dance.”

She almost stumbled at his statement, barely recovering by doing two quick steps to regain her place. “Well, I – you think so?” Hope fluttered in her chest.

Clearly surprised at her question, Sebastian nodded. “Why yes. I think it’s quite plain that he does. Though perhaps I speak without consideration: it’s always easier to see that when you’re an outside party.”

The words rolled over in her mind, sparking a war between her caution and hope. She so badly wanted him to be right. Her soul ached with the want. But she didn’t want to unnecessarily raise her hopes and set that expectation on Fenris, either. Her fingers subconsciously dug into Sebastian’s shirt.

Suddenly, he smiled secretively. “My plan seems to be working.”

He turned them so Relm faced their table, pulling her from her thoughts. At a quick glance, she saw Fenris turned towards them, watching with apt interest. What expression he wore, Relm didn’t know. She couldn’t remain still long enough to discern.

Not wanting to be obvious about her staring, she looked back at Sebastian and chuckled. “You’re a nefarious one, Vael. I’m onto you now.”

“I am a terrible villain, then, for outing myself.”

She laughed again, her nose scrunching with delight. After that, companiable silence fell between them for the duration of the song.

When it finished, Sebastian let go of her and bowed again. “Thank you for the dance.” As he straightened, he arched an eyebrow, his gaze aimed just past Hawke.

When she went to see what he was looking at, she almost turned straight into Fenris. Instinctively she backed up to avoid the collision; his arm snaked out and wound around her waist, pulling her back towards him.

“She’s a lovely partner,” Sebastian said with an ever growing smile. He nodded to them before walking past. Relm almost laughed at how pleased he looked with himself as he went.

Fenris held her snugly against him, his hand low on her back as his other laced its fingers through hers: a sharp contrast to how she danced with Sebastian just before.

“Made up your mind, I see.”

“Seeing you out here was too tempting.” He shook his head at himself. “Besides, I have not danced in some time, despite what I may have told Varric. If I could be convinced to do so with anyone, it’s you.”

Before they could say more, the song kicked off with a few intense notes, forcing them to immediately start moving. Relm distantly recognized the song from her childhood, an old ditty she heard a few times in taverns when they moved around Ferelden. To her surprise, Fenris seemed to know the song as well, his movements gracefully set in time with hers. His bare feet stepped in the right way, leading them around the floor and other dancers just as well as Sebastian did.

Relm laughed a little from the giddiness brought on by exertion as the tempo increased. The other dancers and the room whirled around her in a cyclone of colors and sounds as she spun and twirled, leaving her head spinning a bit each time. And each time, Fenris wound her back towards him with ease, his arm around her waist keeping her steady. Her arm braced against him, hanging on for dear life.

Her mind barely registered the final few notes, leaving her almost no time to brace herself for Fenris grabbing her waist and lifting her up. She bit back a shriek as her feet left the ground. Her arms clutched his shoulders as he swung her back down, her feet nearly stumbling from the landing. Despite how off-kilter she felt, she couldn’t help but giggle as she leaned against Fenris, her laughter drowned out by the clapping and cheers around them as the song ended.

“Are you certain you don’t choreograph those dance moves in your manse?” she asked teasingly when she regained her breath.

He laughed. “Quite. There is a very similar dance in Tevinter. I’ve seen it many times.”

She pressed her body close to his, their chests flush against each other. The dancing limited their proximity to fleeting moments before they had to pull apart again. But now, as a slower song began to play and the adrenaline began to wear off, it was impossible to ignore, especially with how they were practically wrapped around each other.

Being so close to him always made her feel relaxed, but tonight was much different. Everything around them seemed to fade away, the world disappearing and leaving nothing but them.

“One more dance?” she murmured, though they had already begun to move.

“Only one?” he asked, forehead pressed against hers.

“Well, I didn’t want to push my luck. I like to play it safe.”

“You have created a reputation doing the exact opposite of that, you realize?”

“Shush, you.”

He shook his head, smiling at the mock indignant look she gave him. A part of her wondered at the irony, though; he hardly knew just how _much_ she tended to play things safe, especially with him.

Brushing his nose with hers, she said, “Should I play it less safe?” Though her question held a teasing lilt, she was more serious about it than she let on.

“With me or with your daily life? Because I do not think you could be any more unsafe in your daily affairs if you tried.”

“Har har.”

His thumb rubbed circled on her lower back as he thoughtfully regarded her. “To answer your question, then… perhaps so,” he answered quietly. “Caution is wise, but… sometimes one must leap, too.”

“Well then.” Relm rested her chin on his shoulder, head leaning against his. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

He pressed a kiss to her head. “As will I.”

They carried on as such through that song and the next, close together and loathe to part. In a break in the dancers, Relm spotted Isabela peering through and watching them, giving her a congenial wink before disappearing. Hawke snorted slightly; she could only wonder what the others were saying by now. She and Fenris hardly publicly displayed contact or affection like this for long periods of time. Likely, Varric would start poking for details soon.

After another song ended, Relm leaned back, smiling softly. “As much as I hate to, we should probably rest and get some food. Though Maker knows the wine is probably all gone by now.”

Fenris opened his mouth to respond when a loud crash and cursing sprang out from another part of the room, followed by more yelling and another crash. He looked over, and immediately his eyes widened. He pushed Hawke to the side, teeth clenched in anger as he suddenly ran. “Sebastian!”

Alarmed, she turned around. A few men seemingly had collided into their table. Under the pile of bodies was Sebastian, imploring them to get off of him. Isabela was shouting something at the men while she and Anders fought to get them off of the archer.

Relm took off after Fenris, pushing through the throng of dancers to get back to the table. The elf strode towards the pile and grabbed the man on top, throwing him off with enough force to send him crashing to the floor.

“Damn it, where’s the big girl when you need her?” Isabela snapped as she kicked one of the other men off of Sebastian. “Get up you drunken ass!”

By the time Relm reached them, the men had mostly dispersed. One had gone to say something to them, but a withering look from Fenris silenced him.

“What happened?” she demanded as she knelt next to Sebastian, who struggled to get up.

“Idiots happened,” Varric said. “I think they were arguing and it turned into a fight. They stumbled over here and barreled right into the table. Took Choir Boy with them when they fell.”

“I’m fine,” the Starkhavener insisted as he grabbed the table to get to his feet. “I simply-” As he shifted his weight to his feet, he immediately buckled to the floor, narrowly caught by Anders.

The healer shifted him so he could look at his legs and feet. He poked and prodded with his hand, stopping only when he tested Sebastian’s right ankle, which elicited a pained hiss from him.

“Probably sprained your ankle in the tumble,” Anders concluded. “Come on, let’s get you to the clinic. Can’t do much for you here.”

Anders put Sebastian’s arm over his shoulder, helping him to his feet. However, as they began to move, Sebastian cringed again and had to stop. “Putting any weight on it at all is like a dagger into the bone.”

Without a word, Fenris went to his other side and put his other arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you, Fenris. And you as well, Anders.” As they began to move, Sebastian shot an apologetic look to Relm. The remaining four watched as the three men walked (and hopped) out of the Hanged Man.

Isabela clucked her tongue. “Poor bastard. Finally goes out for a night and winds up like that. He’ll probably take it as a sign from the Maker and we’ll never get him back out here again.”

 

* * *

 

Relm tried not to be too disappointed and to enjoy her time with Merrill, Isabela and Varric. However, it was less of a party with just the four of them, and about an hour or two after the three men left, they parted ways for the night.

_Damn._ She’d been trying to work up the courage to ask Fenris if he wanted to spend the night, after their little chat earlier. That was going to have to wait, it seemed. _Maker piss on those asses who broke Sebastian’s ankle._

The estate was quiet when she arrived home. Navigating through the darkness, Relm peeled off the layers of her outwear as she strode through the main room and up the stairs. She dumped the garments in her room, changing out of her clothes and into her sleepwear, which just consisted of an oversized shirt (might have been Carver’s once, she hardly remembered).

With her magic, she stroked a fire to life in her fireplace. For a little while, she stood in front of the flames, warming herself and trying to slow her running thoughts before she went to bed. But no matter what she tried, her mind couldn’t seem to rest.

Fenris occupied it, as usual. And with him, frustration. Yet, it was more than just the want and need for him. Something laid buried under that desire, one that she found growing more prominent with each passing day: the urge to tell him the truth.

_That can’t happen. It can never happen. If I told him…_ Fenris would never believe her, and she’d be lucky if he didn’t scorn her for it right then and there, question everything they shared, and grow skeptical of their relationship. He’d see it as built on a lie, on a delusion, and the whole thing would crumble.

Yet no amount of justification and arguing swayed her soul. It yearned for him to know, to have him share in it with her. _Well, it’s going to have to be disappointed, then._ Her father maintained his lie of omission for over twenty years. He and her mother had been happy. Surely she could – and would - do the same.

_“_ _Relm… don’t live in a lie your whole life.”_ Carver’s words came back to haunt her, as they often did.

_He doesn’t understand. He-_

A trill went up her spine suddenly, ceasing her whirling thoughts. Something pulled her out towards the main room. Frowning, she followed the urge and walked out of her bedroom.

Darkness greeted her, broken up only by the faint moonlight glimmering through the windows. She took another step towards the staircase. But a silhouette moved in the main room, carefully stepping past the fireplace.

Plopped in front of Leandra’s bedroom, Canis’ ears suddenly shot up and his eyes opened. The mabari let out a small _woof_ as he got to his feet, now alert.

“Canis, hold.” Relm stepped towards the stairs, her mana beginning to surge. “Who-”

A pair of glowing green eyes met hers in the dark at the bottom of the stairs.

No matter how often she saw it, Relm never got used to the fact that Fenris and Merrill had glow-in-the-dark eyes. “Maker’s breath,” she said. “Fenris, what are you-” Her eyes widened as she realized why he might be here. “Shit. Is Sebastian-”

“He’s fine,” Fenris said lowly, setting a foot on the first step.

Relieved, Relm nodded, though it still begged the question, “Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m leaping.”


	18. That One Perfect Night...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally taking the U out of that months long UST.
> 
> NSFW. Smut ahoy.

Relm’s breath caught in her throat. A part of her wondered if she was dreaming, seeing him slowly come towards her, his steps precise and muted as he climbed the stairs. His eyes never left hers, and she knew she couldn’t possibly look away, even if she wanted. She finally released that breath in a silent _whoosh_ when he crossed over the crest of the stairs, stopping just inches away from her.

The vulnerability of the moment made them both hesitate. There she stood, in nothing but a shirt and underwear, and Fenris, while more dressed, came without his armor. They toed this line often, nearly stepped over it earlier that night. Something always stopped them or held them back. Now, though, there was nothing in their way. Relm’s heart pounded in her chest, nerves igniting under her skin like electricity along a metal rod.

_Leap._ She reached out her hand to him. Fear and doubt would not stop her now, not when they were so close, not when she knew this was right. Not when she knew this was meant to be, if she wanted to be particularly romantic.

His fingers wrapped around hers, letting her pull him towards her. “Relm.”

Her name sounded so intimate coming from him, like a sweet secret whispered in her ear. Hands still entwined, she walked them back towards her room, repeating the way he said her name over and over in her head. “Again,” she murmured. “Please.”

“Relm.” As soon as they crossed the threshold, Fenris swung the door close behind them. He tilted her head towards his. “Relm.”

Their lips met, each moving in towards the other in tandem. The kiss sparked a maelstrom. Too many months of pent up want surged through Relm, threatening to drown all her thoughts save for those borne from her connection to him. That powerful pull returned, fierce and demanding, more so than it was that day they cleaned his house, and even more than the night they shared their first kiss. This time, it would not be ignored, invading every nerve and muscle and feeling within her.

To be able to give into it at last brought an almost aching sense of relief.

Their feet nearly tripped over each other’s as they stumbled back towards her bed. As the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, Fenris’ strong arms wrapped around her, lowering her onto the sheets. They shuffled back towards the headboard, until Relm’s head was nestled comfortably on the pillows. Fenris leaned above her, arms on either side of her head.

Despite everything in her screaming to continue, Relm pushed it down for just one moment, if only barely. “Are you certain?” she asked.

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Are you?”

A small bit of apprehension lingered below her thoughts. Despite some fooling around during her days in Lothering (and aside from her glimpses into Fenris’ affair with that Fog Warrior), this was mostly new to her. “Yes,” she answered after a pause, “though I’m not… very…”

Fenris understood, or so she assumed, given how his expression softened. “We will only go as fast as you are willing,” he promised, before dipping his head down and suckling the side of her neck.

Relm moaned softly, tilting her head to give him better access. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and back, holding him closer to her. Her fingertips tingled as her mana surged at the contact with his markings. Through half-closed lids, she noticed his markings glow ever so slightly before dimming. “Do they hurt?”

“No,” he said as he kissed the now red and sore spot on her neck. “They rarely do with you.”

She pulled him towards her lips, melding against his as one drawn out kiss turned into another. Her hands pulled and tugged at his shirt. She wanted to run her fingers over his bare skin, to trace those markings and the taut lines of muscle she only ever caught glimpses of. Heeding her demands, Fenris leaned back and removed his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

Relm drank in the sight of him topless, eyes roving over his form. He shifted, his gaze darting to the side. Her error made itself clear when she suddenly was reminded of those times Danarius’ friends ogled at him, commenting on him like a fine piece of art. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re beautiful, markings or not.” Carefully, so very carefully, she let her fingertips roam over his skin. “Though I must say, I think I prefer you without a shirt.” She chuckled. “But I might be a little biased.”

He laughed under his breath, and Relm’s anxiety eased. “You are,” he agreed as he kissed her, soft and sweet, before pushing her back down to the bed. Perched on one elbow, he ran his other hand down her side, his thumb skimming playfully over her breast before it traveled down over her navel and hip. He stopped as he reached the hem of her shirt, fingers wrapping around it and pulling it up. “My turn,” he murmured. He paused, eyes glancing up to meet hers. “If you are willing.”

Fighting back a nervous sigh, Relm nodded and helped him take off her shirt. It joined his on the floor. Relm leaned back onto the mattress, eyes scanning him for a reaction. Her chest was marred with scars – inflicted by fights and her own carelessness. She didn’t think of it as particularly attractive; a part of her wanted to cover herself back up.

Fenris, however, seemed to differ in opinion. “Maker, but you’re a beautiful sight.” He bent down and trailed a string of kisses from her collarbone to the space between her breasts. His lips brushed against the side of one of her breasts, skimming them along the skin until it reached the rosy peak. He pressed a testing kiss to it, all the while watching Relm for a reaction.

 She sighed softly, threading her fingers through his hair. The silent permission granted, Fenris closed his mouth over the nipple, sucking and lapping it with his tongue.

“ _Oh._ ” Relm had touched herself there before, and even let one or two randy youths back in Ferelden grope her. Yet a tongue was so much different than clumsy fingers; softer but far more efficient at instilling pleasure in the act. She squirmed under him, fingers digging into his scalp as he sucked harder, encouraged by her response. He moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment as his hand tweaked at her already hardened peak. Her hips jerked, pushing up against his. Fenris groaned.

Pleased by that inadvertent reaction, Hawke smiled wickedly as she repeated the motion, this time making sure she pressed against him more firmly. She felt his hardened length press against her, sending a shiver through her. “Someone’s eager to see me.” And immediately she wondered why in Thedas she thought making that joke was a good idea.

Fenris let out a pained chuckle. “I have a beautiful woman mostly naked under me. Of course I – _it_ is.”

Cheeks a tad red from her off humor remark, Relm focused her attention on said bulge. Testing the waters, so to speak, her fingers snaked between them and cupped him. She felt more than heard his moan against her skin as his hips pushed against her hand. Emboldened by his reaction, she undid his trousers and sought his length beneath the layers of fabric. Her touch elicited a hissed breath from him, one that turned into a moan as she began to stroke him.

“Here,” he murmured, reaching down to free his erection. As he sighed in relief, Hawke resumed stroking him, watching his reactions play out in his expression and listening to the wonderful sounds he made. There was something incredible about watching her normally guarded mate slowly come undone at her touch, knowing it was _her_ who could do this to him, and that it was _her_ he trusted enough to allow it.

Eventually he stopped her, shaking his head before kissing her roughly, tongue demandingly pushing against hers. Hawke sighed against his mouth and relented, reveling in how much she had stirred him up. He grabbed her hips and scooted them towards him. Glancing down, he paused and tugged off her panties. Relm’s toes curled as Fenris lifted her legs and slung them over his shoulders. Anticipation coiled in her gut.

Green eyes locked onto hers as he lowered his mouth to her entrance. Carefully, his tongue ran its length. Relm sucked in a breath as he lapped at her clit. “ _Fuck_ ,” she hissed out as his tongue circled and sucked on it. It was so much better than her own fingers. Unknowingly she pressed his head against her, silently demanding more. He chuckled, masculine and smug as he did as bid, moving that increasingly evil tongue of his against her nub.

She whimpered his name as his ministrations continued, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she began to feel an orgasm build in her. The entire time she felt his eyes on her, always watching and gauging her reactions. He pulled back when it became too intense for her, pressing soft kisses until she seemed ready again; anything to heighten her experience and turn her into putty in his hands. Which he succeeded in because she didn’t know how she wasn’t a puddle on the bed by now.

Especially when she suddenly felt one of his fingers press against her entrance. As it slid in, a moan tore out of her throat. Immediately she slapped a hand over her mouth, barely remembering that there were others in the mansion and that she really didn’t want to wake any of them, particularly her mother. But Fenris seemed unfazed, continuing along and humming against her as his mouth assaulted her clit and his finger – or, no, finger _s_ now - drove into her.

“I-” She keened.

“Come for me,” Fenris murmured against her. “I want to see what you look like when you come undone.”

The combination did her in. It took mere moments before her climax tore through her. She bit out his name, hips arching up against him as she rode out the orgasm. White lights burst behind her eyes as her body convulsed for a few more seconds. With a grunt she collapsed against the bed, eyes still squeezed shut as she came down from her high.

She heard his trousers hit the floor. Her eyes fluttered open as he leaned above her. In the dim light, his markings seemed to glow faintly. He brushed some of her hair from her face.

She realized he was hesitating. Aching to reassure him, she coaxed him down until he was close enough for her to kiss him. There was so much she wanted to say, but feared to; in some way, she hoped she could get those words across without ever having to speak them.

Fenris shifted. A moment later, Relm felt his tip press against her entrance. A shuddered breath escaped her as she broke apart the kiss, leaning her forehead against his. She lifted up her hips, an invitation and permission in one gesture. _Please._

Bracing against one arm, Fenris used the other to wrap around her back and bring her to him. Biting back a groan, he began to ease himself inside of her. He watched her carefully, taking it slow, one inch at a time. When he nearly bottomed out, he held it, waiting.

“I’m all right,” she murmured, seeing the caution in his expression. Experimentally she rocked her hips into his, smiling as his eyes widened and he fought back another groan. “You feel good in me.”

“You feel damned wonderful around me,” he said in return. A quick kiss, and then he began to pull out, almost all the way, before sliding back into her. Relm wrapped everything around him – her arms, her legs – and clung to him as his thrusting began to deepen and fall into a rhythm. She buried her nose into the side of his neck, inhaling his scent and drinking him in, her groans muffled against his skin. Her thoughts blurred out in the sounds of their lovemaking and the increasing tempo of the noises he made.

Yet beneath it all – the lust and the pleasure and the joy – was a profound sense of _rightness._ It felt perfect: the two of them paired together like that, as natural as thunder following a lightning strike.

Fenris’ breaths were hot in her ear as he continued to drive into her. “I-” For once, words seemed to fail him. Gradually his thrusts became erratic and jerky, his fingers desperately digging into her. “Relm, I…”

_I know._ She murmured words of encouragement and affection to him, her fingers rubbing his back. “Let go. You’re safe with me.”

Ragged breaths tore out of him as he leaned back, just enough to be able to lock eyes with her. He stuttered out words in Tevene, their meaning unknown but their intention felt, as he furiously thrust into her a few more times. Suddenly, with a sharp cry, he came, spilling into her with a low groan.

Relm held him close, littering kisses over his hair, until finally he stilled, slumping against her. Nothing but the sound of the fire and their breathing filled the room. She hardly knew how long they laid there afterwards, entangled in each other’s limbs.

Fenris was the first to stir, sliding out of her as he pushed himself up. “Are you in pain?”

Relm shook her head. “Might be a little sore come morning, but I think I’ll be quite fine with that.” She had woken up with more pain before, and for far worse reasons. She brushed some of his hair from his face. “Are _you_ all right?”

“Yes. Is there a reason I would not be?”

_Because you don’t have the happiest history with sex, after what Danarius did, and after losing that Fog Warrior._ “Just making sure. I didn’t know how your markings would react to me after such a prolonged period. And after such… physical exertion.”

He smirked. “They did not bother me, I promise. I was far too focused on you.”

“So I noticed. Not that I’m complaining at _all._ ” She hummed contentedly as he leaned in to kiss her. Mid-kiss, though, a yawn broke through. Relm murmured an apology, trying to fight back another one.

Fenris nodded, leaning back. “It’s quite late. I should-”

Immediately Relm’s face fell, her heart sinking. “You’re leaving?”

Fenris paused, ears twitching twice before he said, “I… did not know if you would want me to stay. That might result in an awkward encounter with the rest of your household come morning.”

While Relm knew he was completely right, she didn’t care. She shrugged. “If you want, you can sneak out early. Otherwise, they’ll deal with it. Besides, Bodahn and Sandal aren’t going to care, and neither will Orana.”

“And your mother?”

“She knows you’re a friend of mine.” A half-truth: Leandra knew Relm was friends with two elves. She hardly knew the details, though. “Whatever her opinion is going to be, it won’t change my mind about you.”

Relenting to her will, Fenris laid back down next to her, pulling her close to him. Relm happily snuggled up next to him, tucking her head under his chin. Her mana hummed, stirred up again by the lyrium in his skin.

Relm would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little worried about Leandra’s opinion on Fenris. Frankly, she wondered if she should finally tell her mother the truth – not just about her relationship with Fenris, but what he was to her. Though, if Leandra saw his markings, she speculated that her mother might figure it out on her own. _The question is, how will she react? Would she embrace it, or would she spurn it?_ But as she had told Fenris, ultimately it wouldn’t matter. He was her mate, and he had won her heart. Not just because he was her mate, but because she had come to genuinely love him for the person he was.

She might not be able to tell him about their bond, but at least someday, she could tell him that much, at least. Maybe even-

Suddenly she jerked back, remembering something she had been meaning to do. “Oh! Fenris.” She leaned back, looking up at his startled expression. “May I give you something?”

Tentatively, he said, “Yes?”

She slid off the bed, leaving one confused Fenris for the moment as she went into one of her drawers. Rummaging through her clothes, she eventually found what she was looking for. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the red favor her mother had given her. She gently folded it in her hands as she walked back towards the bed, climbing into it and shuffling up next to Fenris.

“I… would like you to have this, if you’re willing.”

He took the favor she offered, turning it over in his hands. “It’s… a strip of cloth. Red cloth.”

She smiled. “It’s a favor.”

In a span of a few breaths, his expression changed from befuddled to shocked. Eyes wide, he studied her face closely, looking for… something. She hardly knew what. So she continued to smile, hoping he could at least see that she wanted to do this, and that she meant it.

Whatever assurance he was looking for, he must have found it. After a drawn out silence, he nodded. With achingly gentle care, he took the favor and wrapped it around his wrist.

After watching him struggle to tie the ends together, Relm reached out, an unspoken offer to help. Fenris relented and she tied them together, gently patting it against his wrist when she was done. “There. Is it tight at all?”

She barely saw him shake his head before he swiftly moved in and captured her lips in a kiss, passionate and tender and aching all at once. He pulled them back down against the bed, laying her on top of him as their lips continued to move against each other. Finally they broke apart, Relm gasping a little as she curled up on top of him. Fenris pressed his nose into her hair, murmuring, “I will cherish this. Thank you.”

“I know you will.”

She decided in that moment, laying there in his arms as their eyes drifted shut, that she could not have been happier. She felt like she could drown in it (but what a death it would be). Yes, she would love to be able to tell him the truth, but that wasn’t feasible. Besides, they were together. That’s what counted. It was more than enough.

Maybe her story didn’t quite go like the ones her father always told her, but she had found her mate and they were together and things looked good. They made each other happy. It wasn’t perfect, but it was wonderful. It was theirs, and nothing could ruin it for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww! Look at them, all happy and stuff.
> 
> It's so good, right? I'm sure absolutely nothing will go wrong next chapter. Not at all. 8Db


	19. ...Before It All Went Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stories never went like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops this is later than I wanted it to be. Holidays and other things just took over. Still, sorry for the wait guys. Though I'm fairly certain you could all at least guess as to how this chapter goes.
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews and kudos!

Relm’s dreams were troubled. A sense of uneasiness hounded them, though she couldn’t quite tell why. Flashes of memory flickered through them. Strangely, they were all Fenris’. They rushed by quickly in a hazy blur.

When she finally woke, she rolled over, expecting to meet another warm body. Instead, she only felt empty space. Her eyes opened, confusion creasing her brow when she spotted Fenris – fully clothed – standing in front of the fire, back turned to her.

_Something’s not right._

“Fenris?” She rubbed her eyes, sitting up. “Was it that bad?” Her tone attempted to be joking, but it sounded flat even in her ears.

He turned. A sad determination met her tentative confusion. Her chest felt tight all of a sudden.

“No. It was fine.” He paused, shaking his head. “No, I don’t – It was more than fine. It was more wonderful than I could ever imagine.”

“But…?”

Fenris hesitated. Nervously he ran a hand through his hair, the same one that now had her favor tied to its wrist. “I… remembered everything. From my past. For one moment, it all came back to me.” He growled in frustration. “But then it was gone. I lost it.”

Relm’s eyes widened. _This is my fault._ She had some of his memories, locked away within her own. Somehow she must have … triggered something. Or at least, their bond had. Either way, she was convinced she was at least partly to blame for this. “I’m so sorry, Fenris. But, at least you know they’re not entirely gone. Maybe we can work to get them-”

“I don’t think you understand how upsetting this is,” he shot back. “To have my past back, only to have it snatched away from me again.” He leaned his head into his hands, nails digging into his scalp. Quietly, he said, “It’s… too much. This is too much.”

The world around her seemed to stop. Relm’s heart slammed against her ribcage. “What…”

“…I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

_No. This can’t be right. This can’t be happening._ They were soul mates. Once they found each other, they never could be separated, not truly. That was how the stories always went. Her mouth opened and closed, shock and panic making it hard for her to find the words. “I – I don’t understand. I know it must be hard, remembering and then not, but we can work through it. We-”

“It’s not just that.” He glanced at her, guilt flitting through his expression before he forced himself to turn away. “It’s all too much. There is something that I cannot… You are…” He shook his head, pushing himself up off the wall. “Forgive me.”

Relm could only watch helplessly as Fenris walked away. She tried calling out to him, but his name stuck in her throat. She only managed a choked “ _No_ ” when he shut her door behind him, leaving her in silence, only broken when the tears came.

 

* * *

 

The trouble with having friends was that they tended to notice things, especially when one doesn’t want them to. Relm fought to keep her demeanor neutral, to convince them that everything was fine.

But everything wasn’t fine, and they knew it.

Sebastian was the first to say something as she walked with him, Aveline and Isabela back from the coast. Relm had seen his worried looks over the past few days, but he had said nothing… until now.

“I am sorry, Hawke.”

She clenched her teeth, staring straight ahead. “For?”

“You and Fenris.”

“What about us?”

The Starkhavener sighed heavily. “I already spoke with him. Though it’s been fairly obvious that something happened. You two haven’t been yourselves.” From the corner of her eye, Relm saw him adjust his gloves. “I had truly hoped… perhaps he was not yet ready. But I am sorry that you got hurt as a result.”

Some part of her wanted to tell him that she pushed him, that she’d let things progress too quickly, but she refrained. Not because he wouldn’t understand, but she feared that, if she started, too much would be said and she wouldn’t be able to stop. Instead, she merely shrugged. “It is what it is.”

Just as Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, Aveline sharply cut in with an exasperated tone, “Talk to him.”

Archer and mage turned to face the guard-captain, who was shooting Isabela a silencing look before glancing back at them.

“You know how he gets,” Aveline continued. “He’ll blow up and need a few days to… brood. I don’t know what happened, but it can’t hurt to try and talk.” Her sharp eyes scanned over Hawke. “It beats you two being miserable.”

Seizing the opportunity, Sebastian chimed in, “I believe your usual Wicked Grace night is tomorrow? It would be a good way to at least break the tension, and you’ll have others around to make it less awkward. If things go well, you two could talk afterwards in private.”

“That’s going to make things awkward,” Isabela complained, now ignoring Aveline’s withering glare. “No fun in betting people to take off their clothes if you two are ruining the mood with your joint sulking.” She sighed. “I get it, you had a fight. Or something. But-”

Aveline exhaled sharply: a sure sign a lecture was incoming. “Isabela, for the love of-”

Relm cut them off before a fight could start, “I’ll consider talking to him.” She turned forward again, crossing her arms. “Isabela, we won’t let it ruin tomorrow night. I’ll put on a brave face, blah blah.”

Aveline let out a little sigh. “It’s all you can do.”

“And if talking fails,” Isabela chimed in, “then you come see me. I know a guy at the Blooming Rose who’ll make you forget about it for an hour or two.”

For the first time in a few days, Relm cracked a smile at Sebastian’s pained groan.

 

* * *

 

Hawke warred with herself, torn between whether or not to get her hopes up. There had been something so final about the way Fenris had left. Whatever happened that night spooked him and sent him fleeing. She wondered if she even had the right to try and patch things up, when he had seemed so determined to end them.

But it was so hard to ignore the cry inside her to reconnect. It demanded she try, to do anything to try and repair their relationship. That, and logically, she knew Aveline had a point: Fenris may have just needed some space. Their relationship had been fraught with such incidents of him shutting himself away for a few days until he calmed down. They always managed to talk it through eventually.

Nervously she rubbed her hands as she headed down the familiar path towards the Hanged Man. _How many walks to this place have been filled with anxiety?_ she wondered to herself. It was their go-to hang out spot, true, but there was also just something about the place that made it easier to confront these things. With the others there to ease any awkwardness, she knew this would be the best chance to try and break the ice with him.

Despite her nerves, she hurried into the Hanged Man and immediately began looking for her friends. She spotted them in the back corner of the room, though no one seemed to have noticed her yet. As she approached, her eyes looked over at Fenris. Though he sat amongst the other, he seemed detached from the conversations going on around him; instead his eyes remained trained on the table, unmoving.

Anders looked over, frowning at him. “What’s gotten into _you_ lately?”

“Leave it be, mage.” Fenris’ tone brokered no argument.

Not that that stopped Anders ever. “Did you get into a fight with Hawke again?” He shook his head. “I can't imagine what she sees in you.”

Relm’s fist curled at her side. She opened her mouth to speak-

“It is done,” Fenris said coldly. “Leave it be.”

The words knocked the air out of her lungs. Eyes wide, she stood there, still unnoticed by her friends. In just a few words, Fenris entirely unraveled all her hope and left nothing but a gaping hole.

Anders seemed surprised. “Well, good. I always knew she had some sense.”

“Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done.”

At that moment, Aveline looked up and finally saw Hawke there. For a brief moment, horror flashed across her face before her expression hardened and she snapped, “Would you two shut it? Hawke is-”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “You two are like dogs fighting over a bitch in heat.”

Though the insult was aimed at the two men, Relm felt a sting at the words. A strangled breath escaped her, and it was then she realized she was shaking.

Aveline’s face grew a shade of red Relm never thought possible. “You idiots,” the captain seethed, “she’s standing right there!”

All at once, they turned to where Aveline’s finger was pointing, right at Hawke.

She couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t stay there and watch as guilt broke out across Anders’ expression, his mouth opening to give some apology or explanation, or watch as Isabela looked away; out of guilt or just awkwardness, who knew. She couldn’t stay there and see the look of sympathy Merrill was giving her, or even the way Varric just seemed unsure as to what to do, for once.

Worst of all was the grief in Fenris’ eyes as he otherwise remained unmoved in his seat. His silence affirmed his earlier words. He had made his decision. They were done.

“Guess that answers that,” Hawke choked out as she began backing away. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.”

The last thing she saw was a flash of shock across Fenris’ face before she turned and all but ran for the door. Someone called out her name – maybe Merrill – but she just kept going until she was outside.

A gasp tore out of her throat as she stumbled out into the street. Her head spun as she unsteadily ran towards the entrance to Hightown. Everything inside her seemed to scream in agony, denial butting up against despair. She’d gotten her hopes up, despite what she told herself, and they were crushed again.

Somewhere along the way home she began sobbing; the whole journey went by in a blur. _Go back, go back, go back. Beg. Plead. Do something!_ Her soul so desperately beseeched her to find a way to fix this. But here, her mind won out. There was no salvaging this now. She would not force anything on him; she would not be another Danarius, no matter how much it pained her.

The front door banged open when she reached it, her feet nearly tripping over themselves as she went inside. She needed to get to her room, to shut herself in and ride this storm out.

“Serah?” Bodahn hurried around the corner. Immediately he went to her as soon as he saw her. “What happened? Can I-”

“Just leave me be,” Relm spat out as she strode past him. “I’m taking no visitors. _No one_.”

The stairs to the second floor seemed to stretch above her. Her legs almost gave out on her twice, like she was climbing straight up the Sundermount. But somehow she made it. She forced her legs to keep moving; it was only a short distance to her bedroom-

“Relm?”

Leandra’s voice froze her in her tracks. Before she could even look, she felt her mother’s arms come around her and try and pull her close.

Relm pushed against her. “Just – just leave me-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Leandra said, her voice sharp. “You’re upset, and I want to know why. You haven’t been yourself for days and now you look ready to crumble.”

The words bubbled in her throat. A part of her wanted to just curl up against her and cry and let it all out. Leandra seemed willing to listen. Maybe she could even tell her the truth.

Her mother took the silence as more stubbornness. She sighed. “Relm, you can’t keep shutting me out. You’ve been seeing someone, I know you have. And he’s broken your heart now, hasn’t he?”

Sometimes, she forgot how perceptive Leandra could be. Relm paused, ceasing her struggling for a moment. “I…” She didn’t know where to start.

“As I thought.” Leandra moved Relm until she was looking at her. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know it hurts now, but it will pass in time and you’ll move on to someone who’ll treat you better.”

And just like that, she clammed up again. “You don’t get it,” Relm seethed as she shoved Leandra back. “It’s not like that.”

“It may seem like it now-”

“ _It’s not like that!_ You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you anyway.” The words lashed out, rending a rift between them far greater than the physical distance between them now. “And it doesn’t matter. It’s done. Nothing you can say will help.”

Leandra didn’t even have a chance to argue back; Relm barreled into her room and slammed the door behind her. As soon as she did, her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. She curled up into a ball and buried her face against her legs.

Leandra’s fist banged on her door. “Relm! Please. Talk to me.”

“Leave me alone!” Relm choked out a sob. “There’s nothing to talk about!”

“There very clearly _is._ ”

Deciding that arguing would do no good, Relm opted instead to just ignore her. The tears were coming hot and fast, exacerbated by her mother’s words. She didn’t know how long she sat there on the floor, or how long Leandra kept trying to get in. Minutes or hours, she hardly could tell.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her mother gave up. “Fine. Don’t open the door.” Her sigh was audible through the wood. “I have a date tonight that I need to get ready for soon. It’s been years since your father’s passing, and I’m not so old that there isn’t a chance for love again for me. Eventually, we must move on.”

Relm almost opened the door right there, if only for Leandra to see the look of absolute rage she wore. _How dare she! How can she-_

“But tomorrow we are going to talk. I won’t just let my daughter walk around and be miserable without knowing why.” She paused. Relm thought she had left, until she added, “As for not believing you… try me.”

This time, Relm knew she left when she heard the sound of footsteps carry away from her door. Sniffing back more tears, she slowly crawled to her bed, peeling off her outer layers as she went. She climbed into her bed and buried herself under the covers, leaving nothing but some of her hair poking out the top.

It’d been years since she so keenly missed her father. He had told her so much about soul mates, but he never explained what to do in such a situation as the one she found herself in now. _Or maybe because other people aren’t complete idiots and drive their soul mates away. Maker only knows what he’d think of me now._

She shoved her face into her pillow as another onslaught of tears broke out. All she wanted to do was stop, but she couldn’t. _What do I do?_ Her shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body. _Father, I don’t know what to do._ His stories gave her hope that she’d have a happy ending, just like those heroes did. When soul mates found each other that was what was supposed to happen, right?

_I believed you. I thought the stories were true. But I was wrong. So stupidly wrong._

And so, in her anger and grief, she wept, with no one to listen to her but the walls around her.

 

* * *

 

Morning came. She didn’t know how. It felt like the world should have stopped. But it paid no mind to her sorrow. The sunlight thoughtlessly shone through the cracks between her curtains, pulling her from the scant few hours of sleep she managed.

Relm resolved to just stay where she was. She knew no reason as to why she needed to leave her bed. The morning ticked by. Likely she would have stayed there the whole day, if certain bodily needs didn’t finally force her to get up.

Though once that was taken care of, Relm begrudgingly admitted to herself that she may as well go and eat. Running a hand through her hair, she ambled out into the rest of the house. At some point, she knew she would have to face her mother; she just hoped she’d let her at least eat first before the fight began.

But as she climbed down the stairs, she noticed it was eerily quiet. Normally her mother was up and about by now. She pushed back the worry stirring in the back of her mind. _Maybe she’s out and about with friends. Or Uncle Gamlen. Actually, they usually have lunch once a week, don’t they? Yes, that must be it. She’s out to lunch. Or… out with that suitor, perhaps._

She shook her head, not wanting to think about that. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she turned to head for the kitchen. However, a flash of white in the corner of her eye stopped her.

On the little table in the main room stood a vase of white lilies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: on my first playthrough of Dragon Age 2, right after Fenris broke up with my Hawke, I decided to go and do this little quest titled "All That Remains." Because no, I had no idea and thus I was summarily traumatized.
> 
> So, to answer your question: yes, I am going to be that terrible.


	20. In Her Last Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, can't believe we're at Chapter 20 already. And it's another heartbreaker, though I think everyone knew this was coming. This chapter deals with All That Remains, so I'm sure you guys know what horror that entails. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy (despite said inevitable horrors...)

Confused panic tore through Relm at the sight of the flowers, though she could not quite understand why. _White lilies, why is that-_

“Leandra?” Her uncle’s voice rung out from the entrance way as he barged inside, not bothering to knock.

Relm turned, head spinning as she tried to straighten her thoughts out enough to greet her uncle. “Uncle Gamlen?”

“Good, I was hoping to catch you.” Gamlen strode up to her. “Where is Leandra? Is she ill? She _is_ here, isn’t she?”

“Hold on, uncle. She isn’t with you?”

The question stopped him in his tracks. His brow furrowed at her. “No, but she’s supposed to be. We were supposed to meet for our weekly visit, but she didn’t show up today.”

Bodahn took the opportunity to step in, hands clasped together as he poked his head into the foyer. “I’m afraid we haven’t seen her at all this morning,” the dwarf said apologetically. “She was out with her suitor last night.”

“Suitor?” Gamlen’s voice held its usual sneer. “She’s never mentioned a suitor.”

Relm shook her head. “She only just told me last night. I never-”

That was when it clicked together: the suitor, the lilies… Without meaning to, Relm inhaled sharply as terror struck her gut.

“What?” her uncle demanded. “What is it?”

Relm ignored Gamlen for the moment and turned to the dwarf. “Bodahn, those lilies. Who are they from?” Her voice shook.

“Why, I assume from her suitor,” he said. “He never left his name, but she got them just yesterday.”

“ _What_ is it?” Gamlen demanded again, worry leaking into his tone.

Truth be told, Relm nearly forgot about Emeric’s serial killer. After the templar died, no more women had gone missing, per Aveline, anyway. She assumed the killer had fled, having dealt with Emeric but afraid of further exposure. That assumption now put her mother’s life in grave peril.

“There had been a string of women being abducted and killed. The perpetrator left them a vase of white lilies before they went missing.” Relm tossed the explanation out before running towards her room to get her gear.

Gamlen gawked, but quickly composed himself. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m sure Leandra’s fine,” he called out after her. “I’m going to go home and wait for her there. You look for her on the streets.”

“Already plan on doing that!” Relm shouted back, throwing on her armor quickly before grabbing her staff.

As she ran back down the stairs, Gamlen already was heading for the door. Bodahn nervously watched her go after him. “Sandal and I will stay here in case she returns,” he said. “Oh, I hope she’s all right…”

Relm left without a word, too terrified of what would come out if she dared speak. All she knew was that she needed to look for her mother, but she wasn’t going to be able to do it alone.

 

* * *

 

Aveline immediately rose from her seat the moment Hawke stormed into her office. “What is it? Maker’s blood, you look pale.”

“Emeric’s killer has my mother,” Relm blurted out, panting from the exertion of sprinting to the barracks straight from her estate. “We saw the white lilies this morning. Aveline, he _has_ her-”

“All right, all right.” Aveline gripped Relm’s shoulders. “Panicking is not going to help. Look at me.” She shook her slightly to draw Relm’s gaze. “We will find her,” she said. She glanced up and shouted, “Guardsman Donnic!”

Seconds later, the man in question swiftly entered her office. “Captain. What do you need?”

“Hawke, this is Guardsman Donnic.” Aveline gestured to him. “We have a woman missing, Leandra Hawke. Middle-aged, greying hair, a few inches shorter than my friend here.”

The man looked at Relm with surprise, mixed with alarm. “Lady Leandra is missing?”

“You know my mother?”

He nodded. “I often see her when I have the Hightown market patrol. She would always chat with me for a few minutes. Always very polite…” Realizing he was letting this get personal, he shook his head. “I know what she looks like. Captain, I can take some of the others and start a search.”

“Yes. Take Brennan and Melindra with you, if she can be spared. They’ve got good eyes, and we’ll need all the eyes we can get.”

Donnic looked back to Hawke. “Do you know where she was last seen?”

Relm shook her head, and it pained her she didn’t know. If it hadn’t been for their fight, she might have bothered to ask about her mother’s plans. “She had a date last night with a suitor, but she didn’t say where they were meeting up.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I – Bodahn, our servant might know more details. He’s at home, waiting for her in case she comes back.”

“I’ll be sure to question him.” He saluted Aveline. “We’ll get started immediately.”

Without further ceremony, he strode out of the office. Relm could hear him calling out names, his voice clear and commanding. “He seems like a good sort, especially if my mother likes him.”

A soft look passed over Aveline. “He’s a good man. Better than many I’ve known.” Before Relm could even decipher that look, it faded. “Come on. While they do their search, we’ll conduct our own. Let’s round up everyone.”

Relm nodded, waiting for Aveline to grab her gear before heading for the door with her. “I’ll swing down to Darktown to get Anders and work my way back up. Let’s meet in front of the Hanged Man.”

Aveline looked ready to say something, but whatever it was, she kept her mouth shut. Relm suspected she knew what, but not wasn’t the time. “Right. I’ll get Sebastian and Fenris and head down to Lowtown.”

As they neared the exit, Aveline paused and put a hand on Relm’s shoulder. “We _will_ find her.”

Relm knew they would. That wasn’t what scared her. What worried her was whether or not they’d find her in time.

 

* * *

 

She barely kept her body from shaking like a leaf as she swept through the lower dredges Kirkwall. When she hurried into Anders’ clinic, she was met with the beginning a profuse apology. Any other time, she’d have listened. But for once, that was not her biggest concern.

“My mother’s missing,” she cut in, explaining what happened and what was being done.

Whatever Anders planned to say to her fell by the wayside. He immediately nodded and grabbed his staff. “Lead the way.”

_I’ll listen to your apology later,_ she thought to herself as she headed for the lifts to bring them up to Lowtown. The whole debacle at the Hanged Man posed a distant worry compared to the terror eating at her now. A part of her still ached over what happened – it felt so sore and painful, like touching a wound and still feeling how tender it was - but it took a backseat to Leandra’s kidnapping. She almost would have been glad for the distraction, if it weren’t for what was at stake.

By the time they reached the Hanged Man, with Merrill in tow after grabbing her along the way, the others were gathered out front and discussing the search.

“Has anyone heard anything?” Relm asked.

Aveline shook her head. “I’ve seen a couple of the guards already questioning people, even a few who were on patrol this morning. Word’s spread quick.”

Relm bit back a curse; she knew it was too much to hope for, and yet, as usual, that hardly had stopped her. She rubbed her hands over her face, nails digging into her skin.

“Hey.” Varric elbowed her gently. “We’ll find her. We’ll burst in, weapons drawn, killing the murderer just before he launches into some grand speech about his plans or… well, whatever damn reason he’s doing this.” He grinned. “He’ll die, we get to rescue your mother, and she’ll have a great first impression of all of us.”

“Certainly a better one than she’d have normally,” Aveline said dryly.

Relm snorted out the faintest of chuckles. She couldn’t bring herself to do more than that. At best, perhaps someday she could look back on it and properly laugh.

“All right,” Aveline rubbed her hands together. “We’re not sure where Hawke’s mother went last night. But there are some places we can rule out…”

The guard captain began rattling off a few places she was most certain Leandra wouldn’t be. The list was not long, but it at least narrowed down the already large search radius. But as Relm tried to turn over in her head where her mother might have gone, she suddenly became aware of a pair of eyes on her. She hardly needed to look up to know who.

Fenris’ eyes met hers when she worked up the courage to look up. A dizzying array of emotions bubbled up inside her, making it hard to think. Looking at him brought back what happened the other night. Her gaze drifted downwards, hoping that the break in eye contact would get her thoughts back on track. Instead, she found her favor still wrapped around his wrist. _What? Wait, no, now’s not- damn it, just bloody worry about your mother!_

“Hawke.”

Her eyes snapped back up when he spoke her name. He hesitated a moment before continuing, “As much as I loathe to suggest this, has anyone thought to check the foundry where we found those remains?”

Anders frowned. “Would he really go back there, if that’s where he was to begin with?”

“It seems as good a place as any. If he’s returned, I imagine he would take up a former roost, one that he’s familiar with.” He shrugged. “If anything, we should investigate to eliminate the possibility.”

Relm sucked in a sharp breath. She remembered those bag of bones and flesh they had found. From there, it was all too easy to imagine her mother meeting the same fate. Her stomach turned, and she had to close her eyes and get her breathing under control. _Get it together._

“Let’s – yes, let’s try there first. It’s not far from here.” Hawke knew they needed to move. If nothing else, as Fenris said, it’d eliminate the option. And it would give Donnic and the other guards more time to gather information.

The others assented in silence, merely following Hawke as she turned and led the way.

 

* * *

 

In fact, no one said a word until they arrived. The foundry greeted them with more silence, but as they made their way inside, a sickly sweet smell assaulted their noses.

“Blood,” Fenris murmured. 

“Start looking everywhere,” Relm snapped out as she hurried up the stairs to the second level. The floor felt wobbly beneath her as panic unsteadied her steps. She wanted to call out for her mother, but fear choked her. And perhaps for the best; if the killer knew they were here – assuming he _was_ here – her mother’s life could be in even greater danger.

Trembling hands rummaged through debris and overturned barrels and boxes. _Please. Please let her be okay._ She swallowed back tears. _I swear, I’ll tell her everything. I’ll tell her about Fenris and what’s happened. I’ll listen to what she has to say. I’ll never fight with her again. I swear. Just let her be all right._

A short whistled interrupted her internal pleading. In the other room, she saw Varric motion to something on the floor. “Someone forgot to cover up their secret trap door.”

Relm stumbled to her feet, working her way towards him. She beckoned the others to follow her up.

As soon as they were all congregated to where he was, he immediately he lifted open the door and began climbing down. Relm went right in after him, rather surprised with how little hesitation he went down there.

_They’re all here for me and Mother,_ she thought as she reached the bottom _._ She watched as the others came down behind her. _No matter how this ends, I owe them._ If the Maker was feeling kind, both she and her mother would be in debt to them.

A darkened hallway stretched out before them. Taking no chances, Relm conjured a flame in her hand and held it out, shedding a meager bit of light for them as they quietly made their way down the hall and towards the large, open space on the other end.

Relm doused the flame as they stepped into the room. Surprisingly ornate bookshelves stood in a half-circle in the middle of the room, with a table off to the side, covered with books, scrolls, and parchments. A stuffed chair with well-worn cushions stood across from the larger table. But the draw of the room was the wooden mantelpiece in the center of the back wall, which on top of it perched a large oil painting of a young woman.

“Maker’s breath,” Relm exclaimed as she studied it. “That woman is almost a spitting image of my mother.”

“That’s just creepy,” Isabela said. For once, the pirate looked uneasy. “Hawke, you don’t think that’s why…?”

Someone began rifling through the papers on the table. Relm turned and found Anders poring over them, his brow furrowing with each book cover he glanced at and every paper he skimmed.

“These are…” He shook his head, mouth slightly agape. “Most of these deal with necromancy and the like. Powerful spells and rituals I’ve never even heard of. You don’t almost ever find these sort of tomes outside the Circles.”

Fenris took a step back, as if recoiling away from the tomes in disgust. “Clearly our murderer is an apostate then, and he took these when he fled.”

Anders shot him an incredulous look. “Take it from someone’s who has escaped seven times: you’re lucky to get your own self out of that place, let alone piles of books and scrolls. No.” He scoffed. “While I can’t rule out he’s a mage who has fled the Circle, he didn’t take these with him if he did.”

“So that means,” Aveline cut in, “someone supplied them to him from the Circle.”

“Or the black market,” Isabela offered. “This stuff floats around. You wouldn’t believe the sort of things that pop up, if you know where to look or who to talk to.”

“But it came from a Circle at some point, most likely.” Sebastian uneasily eyed the small library’s worth of papers on the desk. “The knight commander needs to know of this, once we’re done here.”

For once, Relm felt inclined to agree. “We need to find my mother first.”

“Hawke?”

Merrill’s voice drifted down from the other end of the room. Relm found her stationed near an archway that led out of the room. The elf pointed down the hall. “I hear someone further in.”

Even as Relm marched towards her, she heard the others pulling out their weapons. Merrill nodded to her, falling into step behind her as Relm set out. Motioning for the others to keep quiet as possible, she stepped lightly as she approached a set of stairs leading down into another room. Easing her staff off of her back, Hawke tiptoed down the stairs, maneuvering her staff into an offensive stance as she reached the bottom.

Across the way was a man kneeling next to a chair. Just barely peering above the chair was a head of gray hair. Relm’s chest tightened. _Mother?_

The man stood up, an unsettling smile on his face as he looked over at Hawke. “I was wondering when you’d show up. Leandra was so sure you’d come for her.”

Behind Relm, her friends gathered around her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian and Varric aim their weapons at the man, arrows pulled back and ready to fire.

“Let her go.” Voice dark and firm, Relm let just a brief burst of magic crackle along her fingers: a warning. “You do that, and you live. If you resist, my friends and I kill you.”

The man sneered, walking around the chair. “You will never understand my purpose. Your mother was chosen because she is special.” The emphasis on the word sent a chill down Relm’s spine. “Now, she’s part of something greater.”

Relm glanced at the chair. That head of hair looked just like her mother’s. It had to be her. “Mother!” she called out to her. “I’m here. Just… say something.” _Why haven’t you said anything?_

Turning towards the woman in the chair, the man continued, “I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived.”

Under his breath, Varric muttered, “How do we always find the crazy ones?”

“Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?” the man queried, putting a hand on the back of the chair. “Love. And none so stronger than the one between soul mates.” Almost whimsically, he looked back at Relm. “Surely you know of this? I can sense it within you. The dreamers are always the easiest to feel out.” His eyes bore through hers. Every inch of her felt exposed to him; she fought to not look away. “And my, yours is quite strong. You’ve managed to fi-”

“Shut it!” she snapped. “Yes, I know about soul mates. What does that have to do with my mother?” She sneered, her lip curled back in a near snarl. “If you’re going to say she’s yours, then you’re wrong.”

“Oh no, I know that.” For a moment, his smile fell. “Poor Leandra here lost hers years ago. That sort of rift never mends. I felt it the moment I met her.” His smirk returned, if somewhat pitying now. “No, she lost hers, just as I lost mine. And there is no pain greater than that. How is one supposed to move past that, having their other half ripped away?” He began circling the chair. “How I mourned. And so many times, I considered going after her. You wouldn’t believe how tempting it is. But then, something occurred to me.”

He stopped his pacing in front of the chair. “We had to be reunited, but how could I be sure I’d be with her again in death? No, I could not risk it. So I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers… and, at last. Her face.” His smile widened, unadulterated joy shining through as he lifted the woman in the chair’s chin with his finger. “Oh, this beautiful face.”

Cold dread pooled in Relm’s stomach. _What…_

The woman staggered to her feet, her movements jerky and almost unnatural. The man watched her with awe. “At last, my beloved… I searched for you far and wide. And no force on this earth will tear us apart again!”

Finally, the woman faced Relm and her friends. And eyes that were set in Leandra’s face but didn’t belong to Leandra stared back at Relm, clouded and unblinking.

Relm stumbled back, a scream caught in her throat. A pair of familiar arms caught her, pulling her close, fingers digging into her skin. Relm clutched desperately to one of Fenris’ hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that when she opened them, she’d wake from this nightmare.

“Maker preserve us,” Sebastian said under his breath as he and the others watched in horror.

The man swung out his arms, murmuring an incantation under his breath. Seconds later, the ground began to crack open as undead clawed their way through the earth.

“Hawke, we have to fight.” Fenris gently pried her hand from his and nudged her forward. “For your mother’s sake, we have to end this.”

What happened next, Relm hardly knew. At some point she began to fight, joining the others as the horde of skeletons descended upon them. The battle went by in a blur, her body on auto-pilot as she shot out spell after spell, fighting purely by instinct.

Those aimless eyes kept staring at her, and the image remained burned in the forefront of her mind.

A burst of ice narrowly whizzed by her head. The man – her mother’s killer – went to fire another spell at her. The edges of her vision went red, and she charged, her mind going blank.

It wasn’t until she was digging her knife into the man’s gut, screaming in rage as she twisted it and yanked it out, that she snapped back to her senses. As he crumbled into a heap on the ground, Relm dropped her knife, blinking in confusion as she tried to remember how she had gotten there. Glancing down at herself, she realized she was coated in blood.

A choked gurgle drew her from her daze.

Her mother – or what was left of her – stumbled towards hers. Relm lurched forward and caught her just before she hit the ground. She cradled Leandra to her, looking down, hoping that there was something left of her mother inside that body.

Footsteps hurried towards them. Anders knelt behind Leandra’s head, examining her. He cast some kind of healing spell. Whatever it was, nothing seemed to happen. He let out a heavy sigh, his head hung. “I’m sorry, Hawke. His magic was the only thing keeping her alive. There’s nothing I can do.”

She nodded to him. It was all she could manage without risking breaking out into tears.

Aveline stepped towards them, putting a hand on Anders’ shoulder. “Come on. Let’s give them some room.” Her eyes met Leandra’s, and her head bowed in grief. Or perhaps in apology; Relm could only guess. It lasted for a brief moment before Aveline and Anders pulled back. She herded the others away, giving mother and daughter space.

The hand attached to Leandra’s false body twitched, reaching for Relm’s. Though it was not the hand that Relm had known her whole life, she still gripped it just as tightly as she would have if it had been Leandra’s.

“I knew you would come.”

Alone now, the tears trickled out. “I’m sorry. I should have come sooner. I shouldn’t have-”

“Shh.” Leandra squeezed her hand. “Don’t fret, darling. He would have kept me trapped down here. But now, I’m free. I get to see Bethany again, and your father. But you’ll be alone…”

And it was now or never, Relm realized, as guilt and worry settled into Leandra’s brow, dreading leaving her eldest alone in the world. Pulling her mother close, Relm rested her forehead against hers. “I’m not… not so alone as you think.” She shuddered out a breath. “I found him. Mother, I found him in Kirkwall. That elven boy, he’s here.”

Pulling back just a fraction, she watched as surprise, disbelief, and then wonder played out across Leandra’s face. “He… ah, of course. The one with the-?”

Relm nodded.

“…and he’s the one who hurt you?”

She nodded again. “It’s my fault. I ruined it. Scared him away.”

“He’ll come back to you.” The sheer force of the determination in Leandra’s voice shook Relm. “I refuse to believe you’re bonded to some coward or rake. If he’s truly worthy of you, then he’ll return in time.”

Relm choked out a sob. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry for yelling and pushing you away.” Apology after apology spilled out of her. “…I’m sorry for what I did that day, in the barn. I’m sorry for all the nights I woke you up and worried you. I’m so sorry. I just wanted…”

“I know.” She lifted that hand and placed it against Relm’s cheek. “And you proved me wrong. So don’t be sorry for that.” Leandra’s hand began to slip, her grip weakening. “My little girl has grown so strong. I love you, darling. You’ve always made me so proud.”

Relm tried so hard to keep her hands still. Her breath hitched, and before she could think over the wisdom of it, she blurted out, “You and father, you were…”

As those foreign eyes began to drift shut, Leandra smiled. “I know, darling. I already knew.” Her hand went limp in Relm’s.

Silence filled the ghastly room, only broken by Relm’s soft sobs.


	21. How Not to Deal With Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A chapter after not even two weeks?? 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed and left kudos. Much appreciated as always. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

After they burned her mother’s body, Relm threw herself at everything and anything that would keep her thoughts occupied. In the halls of her home, her mother’s voice haunted her, and at night she could still see those dead eyes staring at her, clouded and unblinking. Compounding it was her desperate, near frantic ache to crawl into Fenris’ arms and be near him. But it could not be, and the pain sharpened, twisting in her like a knife gutting a fish.

Needless to say, sleep eluded her for the nights following her mother’s funeral.

But her zealous motivation to help out every sodding soul in the city very quickly drummed up concern amongst those who remained close to her.

It was Anders who first broke down and confronted her about it one day when she hurriedly walked into his clinic.

Wiping at the bags under her eyes, Hawke nearly collided with one of the pillars in the clinic. Trying to play it off like nothing happened, she didn’t look up as she said, “I found an interesting job on the Chanter’s board. Take out some assassins and make money. You in?”

Rather than answering, Anders glanced over her form, his frown deepening. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Last night.” _An hour or two._

“Liar.” Anders waved off her incoming protest. “Hawke, you need to rest.”

She snorted. “Hypocrite.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “If I recall, _you_ kept checking up on me right after Karl died and nagged _me_ to eat and rest. So think of it as me returning the favor.”

“I’m fine,” she ground out.

“Oh, absolutely. How could I think otherwise?” he said sarcastically. “Surely because you almost walking into that pillar was on purpose. And those bags under your eyes are just for laughs. And the amount of weight you’ve lost is just a fluke and nothing at all to worry over.”

Relm inhaled sharply through her nose, trying to still her temper. “What do you want me to say? I haven’t been having a great time of it. Grief isn’t easy.”

“I know. That’s why you need to take care of yourself and not make it worse.” Anders reached up to fix his ponytail, huffing out a sigh. “Hypocritical of me as it may be, I learned the hard way how much worse grief is if you’re not sleeping or eating. And it’d have been a lot worse if you hadn’t been there to keep me in check.” When Relm looked at the ground, obstinate in her refusal to respond, he sighed again. “I’ll tag along, on the condition that after it’s done, you go home and sleep. Or I swear, I’ll tell Aveline and she’ll order someone to sit on you until you do.”

“Damn it,” Relm muttered. She wouldn’t put it past Aveline to do that. “Fine. She’ll be coming with Varric, so you will get to hear her lecture me, most likely.”

With his hair done, he put his hands on his hips. “Good. You’re going to need the rest, especially if the Qunari attack and try to burn the city down.”

Relm raised her brow skeptically. “People have been saying they’ll do that ever since I came to Kirkwall. Why the added concern now?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“…heard what?”

“The Viscount’s son has been killed. He was found dead in the Chantry this morning.” Anders crossed his arms. “I talked to Myrella earlier today. She told me that not long after they found Seamus, Mother Petrice was found murdered in her chambers. Qunari assassin, most likely, as Seamus had all but converted to the Qun when he was killed. Whatever peace the Viscount managed to gain has been shattered.”

What worried Relm wasn’t that this had happened (frankly, it didn’t come as much of a surprise). No, the bad part was that, at the news, she felt almost nothing. Just a dull sense of dread of knowing this would escalate into another disaster she’d somehow get dragged into. “I see. I’ll try and talk to the Arishok since somehow I got saddled with being ambassador to the Qunari.”

“Hawke, you don’t need to insert yourself into this. You’ve got enough to worry about.” The healer stared at her empathetically, perhaps hoping she’d agree. “But speaking of… I also told Myrella and her group about what happened with your mother. They send their sympathies… and a sincere apology.”

“Apology?”

“Quentin – we looked into him, wanted to find out who he was – should have been someone we were helping. After his mate died, I mean. But he fell through the cracks, and now your mother and other women are dead. They’re going to try and trace where he got those scrolls from.” He shook his head before Relm could cut in. “The leak in the Circle needs to be found, but if Meredith caught wind, there would be even more restrictions imposed. Things are already growing worse in the Gallows; we don’t need to give her another justification for her actions.”

It was hard to argue with him there. “It’s not their fault for what he did.” It was hers, entirely hers. She knew as much. Her uncle thought as much, she was sure. And Maker only knew what Carver would say, assuming he ever deigned to write to her again. Everyone knew it, even if they wouldn’t say it. “But please do let her know I still want to help, even after what happened. Maybe especially after what happened.”

The healer fell quiet for a moment. His brow creased, and something seemed to hang unspoken on his lips for that long moment. When he spoke, it was hesitant and quiet. “That day, down there with him, when he spoke, I… as much as it terrifies me, Hawke, I knew where he was coming from. I _understood_ him.”

“Well, of course,” Relm said, unsure as to why this bothered him. “You lost your mate, too. You know what he was going through.”

He shook his head, almost violently. “Not just that, I mean. Not just the loss, but the desperation, that horrible ache that it leaves in your chest and the relentless need to fill it. Or… bring an end to it.” Guilt-stricken, he looked at his friend. “Hawke, don’t mistake me: what he did was wrong. It was deplorable and he had to be stopped. But what he said… a part of me resonated with his words, with his reasoning. Maker help me, I couldn’t help but understand. And I hate that. I hate that I could sympathize with a mad man.”

They hadn’t spoken much about Karl lately. Anders seemed to get by fine most days, and Relm had been swept up with her issues with her own mate. She wondered if that had been a dangerous assumption on her part, that everything was fine, or as okay as it could be. “Do you still…?”

“Every day. Sometimes I wake up and the grief chokes me. Time won’t heal this wound.” He looked away. “I actually wrote down a list of reasons to keep going. I have the paper stuck under my mattress. I add to it when I think of something. It gets longer, so that’s something. But…”

“…someday it won’t be enough.” Unbeknownst to Anders, Hawke could understand all too well what he was thinking. “Right?”

“I’m… afraid so.” Realizing how dark this conversation had turned, he forced a smile. “But I don’t think that’s going to be anytime soon. Someone has to keep you alive, given your propensity to run into trouble and sharp objects.” He walked over to his table and grabbed his staff. “Come on, let’s get going and get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

It took a considerable amount of effort on Hawke’s part to just walk from Darktown to Lowtown. Having already been physically exhausted, her conversation with Anders only drained her further. She knew he wouldn’t do anything now, not with things so tense in the city and with more patients flocking to him than ever. But the thought plagued her, made worse by her grief and imagination.

Varric’s laugh was a welcome balm; she heard it as they neared the tavern. She almost managed a smile when they turned the corner, ready to greet him and Aveline. But her heavy steps stumbled to a halt when she saw who was waiting for her.

Anders paused alongside her, brow puckered. “I thought you said it’d be Varric and Aveline.”

Varric glanced over at them, as did Fenris, when they heard the mages approach. Upon seeing their confused expressions, the dwarf supplied, “Something came up with Aveline at the last minute. She asked Fenris to fill in, and here we are.”

_Damn it, Aveline!_ Relm debated how best to approach this as she slowly walked over to them. “Fenris, I apologize. I had no idea Aveline would do that. You’re not obligated to come along.”

“I do not mind,” he stated, his tone firm. “You should have a swordsman with you.”

“It can wait until-”

“From what I understand, this is a time sensitive matter.” He crossed his arms. “We should make haste, rather than arguing about this.”

_I tried. And it’s not like_ I _asked him to do this._ Relm nodded, too tired to try and push the subject. She couldn’t deny that being near him eased some of the tension in her. “There are a couple assassins after someone, for some reason or other. Received some last known locations: most are either around here or in Darktown.”

“That’s quite a bit of walking around and fighting,” Anders said. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“You do look pretty wiped out, Hawke,” Varric added. “Like, a few shades away from being mistaken for the walking dead. Wanna give this one to us and we can grab Daisy?”

Relm strode past them, determined to prove them wrong. “Let’s go.”

Without further word, they headed for the first location. It wasn’t far, and the first assassin was spotted quickly.

With little in the way of explanation, Relm and company attacked and took him out. Despite the heaviness in her limbs, she made it out of the battle just fine. In fact, she looked almost haughty as they pushed the assassin’s body out of sight and left him there. She expected that she had proved the men wrong, that she was just _fine_ and not on the brink of collapse like they thought.

But her confidence waned as they tracked down the second assassin, who put up much more of a fight than his predecessor. Her magic crackled indiscriminately, and she found it hard to aim correctly. Once during the fight, a bolt of electricity missed Anders by sheer luck. She had to dig in her heels much more, and the concentration required of her strained her. When the assassin finally fell, a heavy sigh of relief rushed from her lungs before she had a chance to filter it.

“Hawke.”

She looked up to find Fenris staring at her, concern etched into his features.

“M’fine,” she murmured, straightening her back. “Just winded.”

“You look more than winded.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How often have I heard you say that?” The true meaning of his words laid hidden in his wearily skeptical tone.

Refusing to be called on her bluff, Relm squared her shoulders and hitched her staff onto her back. “We’re halfway done.”

She said the words an encouragement, mainly to herself. Yet they helped little with her diminishing stamina. As they trudged into Darktown to find the third assassin, her legs felt like they were filled with pudding. Only pride kept her from taking out her staff and using it as support.

After finally finding the next cutthroat, Varric spared them all the painstaking effort of another battle and shot her with a bolt to the throat. Relm could have picked him up and hugged him for it.

“Just… one more.” Relm suddenly squeezed her eyes shut as her vision blurred. Her legs threatened to buckle, and she only remained standing through sheer force of will.

“Go home, Hawke,” Anders said sharply. “The three of us can handle the last one. Just tell us where they are.”

A part of her wondered why she was being so stubborn. She shook her head and opened her eyes, relieved to see the disorientation had passed. _I don’t want to look weak,_ she reasoned as she took a tentative step forward. _I don’t want them to worry. And I don’t want Fenris to think…_ Another step. _Think what? That he’s the other reason that I’m so exhausted, that he’s why I can’t sleep? That when my mother isn’t haunting me, he is?_

She heard a few heavy sighs of frustration behind her as she began walking. She rationalized that she’d come too far to stop now. All they had was one more fight, and then they’d be done and then she could sleep (or try to).

Through the fog settling in her brain, Hawke struggled to remember where the last one was. The locations of the three they had already dealt with mixed up together in her head. But after an arduous trek through Darktown and more backtracking than she wanted to admit, she signaled to the others that she found their mark.

The assassin turned, and her eyes widened when Relm launched a Stone Fist straight at her face. She narrowly dodged it, but as she crouched, she was met with a fire spell from Anders. Varric immediately shot an arrow at her as Fenris charged.

The assassin, however, was not alone. She whistled sharply, and within seconds, help arrived for her. Thugs carrying maces came from the shadowy corners and descended upon the four.

_Fuck!_ Relm growled, exhausted and annoyed, as she turned and hit as many of them as she could with a chain of lightning. As a few were knocked to the ground, Relm nearly fell with them as her knees almost gave out, her body sagging heavily. _Stay up,_ she commanded. _Stay up!_

One of the thugs got to his feet and ran at her, swinging his weapon at her face. Relm narrowly ducked and struck with him the blade of her staff, cutting through his thin leather armor. He hissed out a breath; the wound stung but it was not deep. Throwing his weight into it, he brought his mace up and swung down as hard as he could. Relm brought her staff up to block the blow, but the force of it made her fall to her knees. She grunted, trying to shove the man off of her. He pushed back, perhaps hoping to break through her staff.

Despite how much her head swam, or the way her arms quaked, Relm somehow managed to push him back and off her, and immediately followed with a burst of fire. The man screamed as the fire caught in his hair, sending him running.

Her body sagged, and Relm felt herself falling over as her legs finally folded in on her. She never even felt her head hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

“Hawke?”

Her eyes burned as she tried to open them.

“I think she’s waking up,” she heard Anders say. She felt him cast a spell on her. Whatever it was, it gave her enough of an energy boost that she finally could crack open her eyes.

Above her loomed her companions, spattered with blood and looking on in varying degrees of worry and relief.

“What…”

“You collapsed,” Anders said, his frown deep as he examined her. “Luckily, we’d just routed the last of them when it happened. But you’ve been unconscious for about ten minutes now. You _need_ to go home and sleep.”

There was no arguing with him. She suspected Varric and Fenris would agree, and she couldn’t work up the strength to fight back. In fact, she couldn’t even get herself to her feet. Her legs seemed to refuse to cooperate. “I might… need help getting up.”

“Are you gonna be able to walk?” Varric asked.

Before Hawke could even open her mouth to answer, Fenris grabbed her staff and shoved it at Varric. “Hold that for her.”

Hawke blinked. “What are you-”

She got her answer when Fenris tucked his arms under her and lifted her up. Relm squawked indignantly as he got to his feet and carried her bridal style. To keep steady, she clung to him.

“The journey will be quicker this way,” he said in way of explanation. “I do not trust your legs to keep you upright after what happened.”

“I’ll walk with you back to her estate,” Varric volunteered. “If you get jumped, it’ll be ugly.” Her staff laid awkwardly in his arms; if she had the presence of mind, she’d have laughed at the odd image of a dwarf carrying around a mage’s staff.

Instead, her attention fixated entirely on Fenris. Her head rolled onto his shoulder, drawn in by his scent – lyrium and armor oil - and that incessant need to be close. Despite her exhaustion, she felt more relaxed. Her eyes began to droop shut as he began walking. Between his proximity and the motion of his walking, she slowly felt herself being seduced into sleep.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured.

It was all the convincing she needed.

 

* * *

 

Low voices and the dip of a bed underneath her gently stirred her to waking. She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to open them.

“-should be all right now.” Varric sighed, followed by the sound of something clinking against her wall. “Gonna talk to Bodahn and Orana before I head out.”

“I will see her settled in first.” Fenris – or so she assumed – sat on the bed next to her. Shortly after, she felt the distinct tug of her boots being taken off.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the room, growing further and further away until they disappeared entirely. Relm heard her boots thunk to the floor, and she felt her blankets being pulled over her. It was then that she decided to open her eyes.

Fenris’ movements stilled. Cautiously, he leaned back. “I did not mean to wake you.”

She shook her head. “S’fine. Thank you for carrying me, though I am sorry you had to at all.”

Nothing was said for a long stretch of time. The silence grew increasingly tense, both painfully aware of where they were and that they were alone. Both looked away, at the bed and at the floor, unwilling to meet the other’s gaze, and unsure as to what to say.

Fenris finally broke the silence, his voice hesitant but firm, “I… do not want you to think that you are a burden to me, or that I do not want to be around anymore.”

His words were a balm. It didn’t erase what happened, won’t mend the rift, but it made it just a bit more bearable. “You’re sure?”

“I would not have said it if I wasn’t.”

It was enough for her. It had to be, for it was all she was going to get. “I’m glad. It wouldn’t be the same without you around.”

There was the barest hint of a smile before he stood up. “You should sleep. Try ignoring that bleeding heart of yours for once and rest tomorrow. The city will not burn down if you aren’t out and about.”

“Nag.” She tried to smile, and she almost succeeded.

He snorted faintly before bidding her a good night. As he shut the door behind him, Relm sighed and sunk further into the bed. She stared at the far wall for a time, her thoughts spinning around. Her mother was dead; nothing could change that. Fenris had left her, and that wasn’t going to change. But he didn’t want to be rid of her, either. That meant he would stick around.

_So that’s how I’m going to scrape by. Just spend time with him whenever I can and hope it’s enough._ Everything within her constricted at the prospect. She buried her face into her pillow, breathing in and out evenly in hopes to reduce the tension. _It’s better than nothing. And at least I got to be with him, if only for a little while._

But souls hardly dealt with logic and reason. No justification or consolation eased the ache. Eventually she tired herself out and fell into a restless sleep, marred by indistinguishable nightmares.

 

* * *

 

Relm walked downstairs the next morning to find breakfast laid out for her. Bodahn and Orana stood nearby, watching her intently as she walked over. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you as well,” Bodahn greeted as he pulled out a chair for her. “Orana walked out early to the bakery and got you your favorite pastries.” He gestured to the Fereldan-styled sweet buns that dotted her plate, accompanied by a small jar of blackberry jam.

She eyed the two suspiciously as she sat down. “…Varric told you to make sure I eat, didn’t he?”

Orana fidgeted. “He said he was worried about you, and you haven’t taken many meals here since your mama died.” Her big, wide eyes met Hawke’s. “Are you upset with us, mistress?”

 “No,” she said with a little sigh. “Thank you, really. I’ll eat this, I promise.”

“Oh, speaking of Master Tethras.” Bodahn pulled out a folded piece of paper and gave it to Relm. “He left this last night for you.”

_Now that’s a little odd._ Varric liked to write, but she couldn’t recall him ever leaving her a note like this. He usually preferred to talk in person. She nodded in thanks as they left her to her meal. She took a bite from a bun before she opened up the letter.

               

_Hawke,_

_Let’s have dinner, you and me. It’s been awhile since we just sat and talked. Meet me tomorrow night (from when you’re reading this) at my suite in the Hanged Man. I might even crack open that jug of whisky I’ve been sitting on._

 

Undoubtedly Varric’s attempt to make sure she ate, and to pry some information out of her. Relm snorted. He had a point; it _had_ been awhile since they just hung out together without the others around. A free dinner sounded tempting, too.

_All right then, Varric. Dinner for two, tomorrow night. This ought to be interesting, if nothing else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My oh my, what does Varric want to talk about, I wonder?


	22. Of Best Friends and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, Hawke should probably have realized this was going to happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a quicker-than-usual update because frankly, I've been looking forward to this bit for awhile. It's a bit dialogue heavy, but I hope everyone enjoys it all the same!

Relm knocked on Varric’s door, a bottle of wine cradled under her arm. Within moments the door opened. Varric poked his head out around the side, smiling when he saw Hawke.

In a deadpan tone, Relm greeted, “It’s a real nice night for an evening.”

Varric blinked, taken aback. “Er, come again?”

“That,” she said as she walked into his suite, “is Aveline’s idea of a conversation starter when she’s talking to the man she’s smitten with.”

An incredulous laugh followed Varric shutting the door. “You’ve gotta be yanking my chain. Our Aveline, _smitten?”_

“So terribly, awkwardly, sweetly smitten.”

And so Hawke regaled Varric with the story of Aveline’s near disastrous attempt to court one Donnic Hendyr, and how she had gotten unwittingly dragged into it. As she told him the tale, Varric had their dinner brought in. A few large, golden crusted meat pies were the night’s entrees, served alongside a hearty heaping of potatoes and creamy gravy.

By the time Relm finished, she’d started helping herself to the food. Varric was too busy laughing.

“Maferath’s _balls_ I haven’t laughed that hard in ages,” he finally said, wiping away a stray tear. “Leave it to Aveline to have to have Rivaini spell it out for them.”

“I’d have felt bad but honestly, I was so fed up with her little awkward dance that I was glad Isabela just came out with it.” She popped open her bottle of wine, pouring herself some. No wine glasses were set out, so she made due with the tankard at her end of the table.

“Copper marigolds.” Varric shook his head, indicating to Hawke to pass the bottle down to him when she finished. “Ah, Hawke. What would we do without you?”

“Flail about hopelessly, it seems.” She took a sip from her tankard. “I’ll admit though,” she said as she set it down to cut into her meat pie, “never thought I’d ever play matchmaker.”

Varric began helping himself to the food as well. He let the silence hang as he served himself generous portions of the potatoes and gravy, slathering it over his pie. As Relm watched him, she realized he seemed to be hesitating in saying something. He would pause, as if to talk, and then would continue doing something else. She frowned as she watched him cut into his pie and take a huge bite from it.

Carefully, she’d almost say slowly, he chewed it before swallowing. He looked up at her, then his eyes darted back to his food. It looked as if he was going to take another bite. Relm, figuring he wanted to just focus on eating for now, leaned back to do the same.

“She… could have timed that a bit better, I suppose.” Varric poked at his food. “After everything that’s happened.” He sighed, closing his eyes briefly for a moment.

 _He looks… nervous._ Relm set her own fork down. Something seemed off. She felt more than just nerves from Varric... something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand a little. “I don’t think she meant to drag me into it at first. Besides, people shouldn’t put their lives on hold just because of me.”

“No, but still, that couldn’t have been easy on you.” Varric took another quick bite from his food. His actions this time were much quicker. “It’s sort of why I asked you here. You haven’t had a good time of it at all lately.”

Relm deliberately took a large forkful from her pie, studiously dipping it in the gravy before popping it into her mouth. Now _she_ was hesitating. _Stop being such a child. He’s just checking in with you. After the fiasco you made of yourself the other night, can you blame him?_ She swallowed, ignoring how tight her throat felt. “It’s hard being in that mansion. I keep expecting to hear her.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling. And it sucks, but only time’s gonna make that easier. Not to sound callous, but there’s not much you can do about that, other than ride the grief out.”

“Just a matter of getting there.”

“And you’ll get there.” Varric leaned back against his chair, steepling his fingers. “But I wasn’t really talking so much about your mother. I meant more of the thing that happened before she died.”

Relm’s body stiffened in response. Talking about her mother’s death was one thing. It was difficult, but it was something everyone understood. But her breakup with Fenris was an entirely different matter. She’d kept tight-lipped about it since she ran out of the Hanged Man the night before her mother died. So long as she endeavored to keep the truth about them a secret, she couldn’t talk to anyone about how much it affected her. How could she explain that being apart from him physically hurt at times? Or how much she had to fight the urge to crawl to him and beg him to take her back?

“And that’s your telltale look when someone’s hit a nerve.”

Her lips tightened before she said, “I don’t see what there is to say. We had something going, and he ended it.” _I scared him away._ “It hurts, and the timing could have been better, but it’s not his fault.” _It’s entirely mine._ She shrugged, hoping she seemed convincing. “He told me he still wants to be friends, so it won’t affect you or the others. Just might be awkward for a bit until it blows over.”

Wanting to indicate she was done talking about it, Relm dipped her head as she shoveled another serving of pie and potatoes into her mouth. She had to give it to Varric, it was good grub. Surely it didn’t come from-

“What aren’t you telling me, Hawke?”

The words pierced her like an arrow to the chest. Almost dropping her fork, she looked up after forcibly swallowing down her food. Varric regarded her seriously from across the table.

“Wh – What else is there to say? I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, Varric. Do you really want the sordid details of the breakup?” As soon as she said it, she realized how stupid that sounded. It was Varric; of course he wanted that. _You’re overreacting. He’s just being his usual nosy self._ “Look, it involves sex and something that was said after it. I know you like details but do you really want to delve that much into it? Because really, I’d rather not.”

He shook his head. “Not quite what I meant.” Relm saw the lines around his eyes tighten, his fingers pressing together to the point that their tips turned red. “This is about more than just you two splitting.” He inhaled deeply, deliberately. Bracing himself. “Hawke, in my life, and especially so after I met you, I’ve seen some weird shit. This city lives and breathes insanity. More often than not, there’s an explanation for it. Sometimes it’s still crazy, but at least I can explain it.

“But there are a… number of things I’ve seen and heard that I can’t quite put together.” He paused, eyeing her. Relm tried to appear composed, if not a little uncertain. After a painful, drawn out silence, he continued, “Things that started the night we met Fenris.”

All the air in Relm’s lungs felt like it’d just been suddenly and violently sucked out from her. Her throat went dry as panic coursed through her. It was then she realized that he had not brought her up there just to have a catch-up chat.

_He knows._

She couldn’t talk, she could barely breathe. Every muscle in her body went rigid, unmoving and unyielding in her growing alarm. _Don’t be stupid, there’s no way. But if you keep gaping at him like a fish, he’ll suspect even more._ She had to swallow a few times before her throat wetted enough to allow her speech. “You – what are you suggesting?” She tried to come across as skeptical, even mocking.

Varric seemed unfazed. “Well, let’s start at the beginning. I never noticed anything particularly strange going on until that day. You remember? You were acting out of sorts, unable to pay attention. Junior noticed, too, so it wasn’t just me.” He lifted his hand, beginning to tick off fingers. “It got worse as the night went on. You were near frantic. Oh, and you also recognized spoken Tevene.” He ticked off another finger. “Little strange that a country girl from Ferelden would know that.”

Relm folded her hands into her lap. Her fingers dug into her palms. _You have to stay calm. Just breathe._

“You _gasped_ when you first saw Fenris, but then you relaxed for the first time that day. Even when he _put his fist through a guy’s chest,_ you hardly blinked. And when he mentioned he wanted to kill a magister, you just went right with it. No questions asked.”

“I help people all the time, Varric,” Relm cut in. “The lot of you love to make fun of me for it, remember?”

“Okay, fair enough.” Varric shot her a pointed look. “But here’s the thing: _Junior_ went along with it. No complaining, no whining, no nothing. Just, sure, let’s kill a magister. In fact, you both almost seemed eager to do it.”

“Neither of us are keen on slave owners. How could we not help?”

“If that’s how you want to play it. But that’s only the start of it.” Varric began ticking off more fingers as he went. “We learned early on that our broody elf does not like magic all that much and could care less for Blondie or Daisy. But you? Oh, he warmed up to _you_ quickly. Invited you to his house, alone. Spent time with you, alone. Waited for Maker knows how many hours for you outside Blondie’s clinic the night Karl died.”

“He didn’t trust Justice to not do anything that would jeopardize the people in Darktown,” Relm lied.

He shot her a skeptical look. “You were there, and he’s never doubted your fighting prowess. No, I suspect there was someone in particular he was worried about.”

He was right, but Relm refused to say as much. She kept her lips sealed.

“And let’s take you. We meet this elf that’s anti-magic and pro-Circle, kind of everything you’re not, and yet you concerned yourself so much with earning his good opinion. You step carefully with him. You got the most kicked puppy dog look when he denounced the whole soul mate idea to your face.” He snorted before taking a sip of his wine. “After you left, he looked like the life had gotten sucked out of him. He’s not much of one for guilt, but he felt it then.”

She shrugged. “It’s what he believes. I can’t change his mind.”

Despite now looking down at her plate, she could feel Varric’s stare. “Next up: Hadriana. You recognized her.”

Her head snapped up. “I never met her!”

“You said, ‘So that’s what her name is.’ I heard you. And you were talking to her before we rushed in there.”

She bristled, jaw clenched tightly. “If you’re suggesting I was in cohorts with her or-”

Varric looked appalled. “Come on, Hawke, give me some credit. But that still doesn’t explain what you said, or how weird that whole day was. You suddenly looked petrified right before the hunters showed up, and then with Hadriana…” He settled one of hands on his chest, still using the other to count his observations. “Just as a side note, that’s the same look you get whenever Danarius is mentioned. Almost as murderous as the elf’s.”

His points were becoming increasingly hard to argue with. “I plan on helping murder him if he comes here.”

“And then there’s even weirder shit when you two are together. You’ve got this weird… well, as a writer it pains me to admit it, but I don’t quite have the words. There’s something there. The elf has this knack for knowing when you’re in trouble in a battle.” His brow furrowed. “I’ve seen it a couple times. He’s the one who realized the other night that you had collapsed. And it’s not just me who’s noticed. Rivaini told me about that time you guys were fighting some Qunari. She and Fenris were surrounded and pretty occupied when he suddenly stopped and bashed through them and ran to you. Just when you were about to get impaled.”

Relm remembered that clearly. “Guess I got lucky.”

“More than once,” Varric said dryly. “Also, did you know you always turn in his direction, right before he’s about to walk into the room?”

That observation made her eyes widen briefly, startled. Fear began to seep into her again.

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed. Sometimes you’ll just sort of move your body towards the door or turn your head a bit, but it’s a tell.” His tone became more confident, spurred on by her reaction. “Do you also know he won’t let anyone but you touch him? Seen that more than once, too. That time with all of us in Blondie’s clinic comes to mind. After Justice wounded you.”

 _How could I forget?_ She honestly thought Fenris was going to kill Anders. The rage rolling off of him had been palpable.

“One little touch and a few words from you and he backed down. He gets downright jumpy if the rest of us try it, if not outright reject us.” He went “oh”, having thought of something else. “Sort of the same for you, too. Not with not liking to be touched, but with how easily you relax around him. Just the other night, in fact, is a good example.”

She sighed. “Yes, about that. I’m sorry I was so obstinate. I… sleep hasn’t been coming easily. And when it does, it’s not always restful.”

For a moment, his expression softened. “That’s what I figured. And yet, like a minute after Fenris picked you up, you were out like a snuffed candle, despite sleeping against the spikiest, most uncomfortable looking armor ever.”

“He…” At that point, Hawke didn’t even know what to say. She felt her hands begin to shake.

Perhaps sensing her growing nervousness, Varric sighed and said, “One more thing. The thing that’s probably been bugging me the most. Junior said something to you before the Wardens took him. ‘Don’t live in a lie your whole life’. Never could figure out what he meant, and you never explained it.” His shoulders seemed to sag. “What could you be lying about? I don’t think it was about hiding your being a mage. So that means there’s something else you’re hiding, something he doesn’t think you _should_ be hiding.”

Her breath hitched, her fingernails digging so hard into her palms that they drew blood. There she sat, confronted with a heap of evidence, laying her secret all but bare and showcasing just how poorly she had actually hidden it. She wanted to bolt for the door and not look back. But she knew there was no running from this. “Do… has anyone else mentioned anything?”

“If you’re asking if the others suspect something, then I don’t think so. A few things have caught their attention, but I don’t think they’ve noticed as much as I have.” He sat up straighter in his seat. “So there _is_ something going on.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate bid to hold back the panic. _What would he say? He doesn’t believe in it. Or what if he-_

“Hawke.” Varric’s voice was gentle, more so than she’d ever heard it.

She struggled with it longer than she would have liked, but eventually she opened her eyes and met his gaze. He blew out a breath, running a hand over his hair. “This is really serious, isn’t it? You look like an animal cornered.” Leaning forward, he kept his palms open and his expression calm. “Whatever is said here, it won’t leave this room if you don’t want it to. You have my word.”

Varric waited for her, not saying a word as the minutes slowly ticked by. In the resounding silence, Relm fought for every scrap of courage she could muster. Varric was her best friend. Though he loved to gossip and tell stories, she reminded herself that he knew the value of a secret. He had his own, after all. He knew something was amiss, and trying to hide it now would be pointless.

She breathed in deeply, unfurling her hands. The cuts stung, but the pain helped ground her as she finally looked Varric in the eye again. The words caught in her throat, fear keeping them down. Once she said them, there would be no taking them back. _Say it. You have to tell him. Just say it._ She let out a raspy breath, repeating the words over and over in her head and forcing them out with everything she had-

“Fenris is my soul mate.”

Varric’s eyes widened in shock, and it was his turn to be left speechless. He composed himself quicker than she did, though. He all but collapsed against the back of his chair. “Okay, yeah, that qualifies as serious.”

“I know it must sound crazy,” Relm said. “Especially to a dwarf, but I swear it’s true.” Hands still shaking, she reached for her wine and took a long drink from it, banking on some liquid courage to help her out. She set the tankard down with a hard thud and mentally braced herself. There was only one thing left to do.

She told him everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation will continue into the next chapter. It would have been too long if the whole thing was in this chapter. Let me know what you all thought!


	23. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke answers some questions, and has a few of her own answered... for better or worse

Well, _mostly_ everything. Like Varric, she started at the beginning, when she was nine and had her first dream. She worked her way through the following years, telling him about some of what she saw and what it was like. Given his inability to dream, he often interjected and asked her to elaborate on some things.

“What about his markings?” Varric said later on. “Did you…?”

She nodded grimly. “Yes, I dreamt about that.” There were no words for what happened that night. “And yes, it’s as bad as he says. I screamed the house down and vomited when I woke up, and I wasn’t even there for the whole thing.”

Varric swore under his breath. He got up from his seat, motioning to Hawke. “Keep going. I’m just… gonna crack out that whisky. I feel like we’re both going to need it.”

As he did, she told him about Fenris’ time with Danarius, though there was where she began to withhold some details. There were just some things she couldn’t say, secrets and awful things that weren’t hers to tell. Even if Fenris had no idea that she knew, she couldn’t – wouldn’t – betray him that way.

Astute as always, Varric caught on. He walked over with the jug and two tumblers. “Get the feeling there’s a lot you’re not saying, but given who and what we’re talking about, I’m not going to ask.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if you did. You’re better off not knowing.” Relm watched as he poured out some whisky for them both. As he finished one, she took it and regarded it with a deepening glare. “Let me put it this way: if Danarius ever does come for Fenris, and if Fenris for some reason can’t kill him, I will kill the monster myself. I’ll claw open his chest, rip his heart out and feed it to him.”

To Varric’s credit, he seemed nonplussed as he poured his own glass. “Normally I’d make a joke about you spending too much time around the elf, but all things considered, I’ll pass.”

“Appreciated,” Relm muttered as sipped from her glass.

As Varric reseated himself, whisky in hand, she continued, telling him about Fenris’ escape and the time he spent with the Fog Warriors. Those bits were easier for her to talk about, though she stepped carefully with the details about the Fog Warrior Fenris lived with. Again, it was not her place to talk about that.

Tension seeped into her shoulders as she moved onto the end of his time in Seheron. Though it had resulted in Fenris’ escape from Danarius, it still pained her to remember how many lives were lost.

“Always wondered how he escaped,” Varric said, his tone somber as he finished his glass. “So let me get this straight, though: you actually consciously chose to go into his head when that happened?”

“Yes, more or less.”

“And he has no idea?”

“Not that he’s ever said. When he told me about his escape a few months ago, he mentioned nothing of it.”

“I’m gonna need more whisky,” he muttered, leaning over to pour himself another glass. “Keep going. So he got out of Seheron. What happened next?”

And thus she came to the last leg of her story. There wasn’t much to tell; Fenris had just wandered his way down south, killing hunters and eking out a living.

“Honestly, I’d just about given up on ever meeting him, and then, there he was.” Relm shrugged. It still boggled her that they had wound up in Kirkwall together. “I felt so strange the day we met him. It must have been because it was the closest I’d ever been to him. Though I wonder if Danarius having been here, however briefly, also had something to do with it.”

“As weird as it is, your little… knack for knowing when he’s about to be in danger might be useful.” Varric gestured to her. “Eventually, Danarius is going to come. And you’ll know. He won’t be anticipating that.”

Relm nodded; she hoped as such. It would be the only warning Fenris would have. She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “That’s really all there is. I dreamt about him since I was nine. I wanted to look for him, and just when I thought I never could, he found me.” She faltered, eyes drifting away. “And then I blew it. I scared him away.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Pretty pathetic, isn’t it? I chased away my own soul mate.”

“I think you just got paired up with the most stubborn elf in this end of Thedas.” Varric slid the whisky jug down towards her. “Look, I don’t want to say anything to get your hopes up. But it seems odd that you’re going through all of this and he’s… what, just able to shake it off that easily? Shouldn’t this be a two-way deal?”

“You’d think. But… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just crazy or I’m overreacting.”

“That would be a mind-boggling overreaction. And I don’t think you’re that crazy, Hawke. Well,” He chuckled. “you are, but this kind of crazy is Bartrand crazy, and you’re not that.”

It sort of hit her then, how strange this all was, to be talking to him about this, to anyone outside of her family. “So… you believe me then?”

“Kind of hard not to, given the evidence.” Varric look perplexed as he ran a hand over his face. “Not exactly what I was expecting, but it’s an answer, finally.” He paused, and then added, “Then again, I couldn’t say _what_ I was expecting. Maybe it should have been obvious.”

She had been so terrified of telling him, but now that it was out in the open, and he wasn’t scorning her, she actually felt a little better. It didn’t solve her problems, but sharing the load made them easier to bear. She’d forgotten what that felt like. “Thank you, Varric. From the bottom of my heart.”

“Oh no, don’t get sappy on me now, Hawke.” Varric laughed. “You’ll make me tear up and it’ll be ugly.”

His tease made her smile.

“Now look at that, there’s something I haven’t seen in a bit.” Varric looked pleased, and perhaps, if she looked hard enough, relieved. “Come on. Let’s finish this up and have some more drinks.”

 

* * *

 

It felt strange to have someone to confide in again about Fenris. He had lent her an ear and, more astonishingly, believed her. As the days went by, she found herself taking solace in his companionship, in his knowing of what she was going through. Well, as much as he could understand. Varric’s sympathy only extended so far. He couldn’t fully grasp what was going on. The best one to understand would have been Anders, but Relm hesitated in telling him. For once, someone not believing her wasn’t the issue. She feared more that he would urge her to tell Fenris, or worse yet, that _he’d_ tell him or accidentally let it slip.

No, for the time being, Anders being in the know was out of the question.

But she needed help, because she honestly was beginning to wonder if she was losing her mind.

Sleep still dodged her. Leandra’s loss slowly became easier to bear. By inches, but there was progress. But little to nothing seemed to help with her heartbreak over Fenris. Often she’d get up at night and begin pacing, trying to burn off the pent up energy in her. _Go to him. Go to him,_ a little voice kept saying. It urged her – _begged_ her – to go. Resisting it made her body ache, like she literally had to hold herself back.

She had no idea if this was normal for her circumstances. Asking Anders would raise suspicion.

However, there was one other person she could go to.

And that was how she wound up in Darktown the next day, volunteering for whatever Myrella needed. She donated some sovereigns off as well. Myrella quickly deposited them into a little box tucked away behind an alcove in her hideout.

“Much thanks, Hawke,” she said. “Unfortunately, I have little in the way you could do for us right now. We’re sitting tight because of tensions with the Qunari.”

“Figured I’d at least ask.” Hawke watched the blonde-haired woman organize some letters and notes. She couldn’t make out her organizing system; the papers were tossed haphazardly onto random piles. “You’re, ah… something of an expert on soul mates, no?”

Myrella paused, glancing over at Hawke with a skeptical expression. “Something of one. As much as anyone can be. Why?”

Hawke rubbed her arm. “There’s something I’ve wondered about. So, for whatever reason, our souls got torn in half, blah blah blah. But if that’s the case, and let’s say two mates find each other… how can they feel it if something happens to the other mate? Like, if one dies?” _Or if they leave you._

“You wonder how it could be, since any sort of connection should have been severed.”

“More or less.”

“And I more or less don’t really know. No one does.” Myrella sat down on an old rickety chair, ignoring the way it creaked dangerously underneath her. “That’s part of the very large problem with this broad scale condemnation of soul mates. We can’t study it properly and therefore, we have half-baked answers. You have a point. If we’ve been severed in half, how can we still feel anything? My best guess is this: the mind and the soul are strongly connected.” She linked her hands together, demonstrating a bridge. “They both influence each other. So there’s power in knowing you have a soul mate, and who they are.”

Relm frowned. “You’ve lost me a bit.”

Myrella leaned forward. “Think about it. Hundreds of thousands go about their lives not knowing who their mate is. Given the connection mates have, those people should be going crazy, feeling things that aren’t happening to them or desperately wanting to find their other half. But they don’t. And, in terms of probability, many have mates who probably die before they do and they never know it. There’s a huge difference between the people who know about their mate and those who don’t.”

“The dreamers feel that connection more strongly, right?” As much as she hated remembering, her mind flashed back to what Quentin told her. “ _He_ told me that much. That he could… feel that connection within people, that it was easier to do so in the dreamers.”

“Quentin.” Myrella’s expression softened. “I really am sorry about that, Hawke. That’s a failure that’ll mark us. But he wasn’t lying. There are those who can sense the connection within people to their mates. I imagine it’s usually rather dull. Even most dreamers barely feel anything, if at all. To non-mages, the dreams are extremely fuzzy and vague. Mages can usually make more detail out of them, but even that’s a challenge, as you probably know.”

_I certainly remember that frustration._

“I’ve met people who told me what it was like when they learned the truth after meeting their mate.” Myrella looked at the floor, her expression turning thoughtful. “They said it was like everything just fell into place. They couldn’t believe that they never considered it before.”

A terrible seed of hope planted itself within Hawke, one that she rapidly recognized and crushed. _No. Don’t even start._ “But what if something happened to a pair that met. One of them may or may not know the truth, but regardless, something pulls them apart.” She tried to think of something plausible. “One isn’t ready for a relationship and breaks things off, or one has to go away for a long time. What would happen?”

Myrella frowned. “I find it hard to believe the relationship would end, even if one of them doesn’t know. Or even if neither of them know.” She leaned her head on her hand. “But I suppose not impossible. So let’s say it does. In short: nothing good. For the one who may know? They’re in for a world of pain.”

A wave of relief washed over her. At least her reaction was normal, and not just her completely blowing things out of proportion. “How so?”

“If a soul is forcibly kept from its mate, it will fight with everything it has. I’ve heard of it causing actual physical aches and pains in the body.” Myrella scratched her chin. “Let me put it to you this way: our souls want nothing more than to find their missing half and reunite. If a soul gets close that other half? It’ll know, even if that person’s mind hasn’t quite caught up. And it _will not stop_ until both halves are brought together again.”

_…that certainly explains a lot._ “But that’s impossible, isn’t it? Without dying, I mean.”

Myrella nodded. “Yep. Death is the only way to reunite for good. It doesn’t mean that you can’t get as close as possible in life. It’s not like you’ll feel an urge to kill yourself or die once you meet, but our souls will never be entirely satisfied. Physical contact eases that urge for connection the most, sex especially. Souls are… demanding things. If they want to be near their other half, they’ll tell you. You feel this… tug. Like someone pulling on your sleeve. But it’s in your head.”

For the sake of maintaining her lie, Hawke pretended to look surprised. “Oh? So you actually feel them wanting to be close?”

“Yes.” Myrella tilted her head. “Why are you asking all this?”

Luckily, Relm had prepared a lie in advance. “Just wondering. It sort of struck me the other day that people like Meredith and Grand Cleric Elthina have mates out there. I wondered what would happen if they met them.”

Myrella snorted. “Believe it or not, I’ve considered trying to scour out Meredith’s mate and toss them at her. See if that would make her ease up.”

“You could find them?”

Here, the other woman carefully composed her expression. “Yes. But it’s… very difficult. And a risky venture. But there are ways.” She waved it off, getting to her feet. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it another time. I’ve got to meet with the others, and you should get home. You look like you haven’t slept in awhile.”

Relm really wished people would stop pointing that out.

 

* * *

 

Myrella nailed it on the head: there was power in knowing. While Relm’s struggle continued, knowing exactly what was going on made it somewhat easier to deal with. No obvious solution presented itself – aside from telling him the truth and hoping he wouldn’t disown her for it – leaving her with the monumental task of fighting back against her soul and the prevailing sense of loss she still felt.

So Hawke all but threw herself at Isabela and Aveline when they both barged in, demanding help with something. Aveline railed on about elven fugitives that converted to the Qun to avoid justice, and Isabela pestered them both for help finding that relic that got her shipwrecked.

Isabela’s case of “I’m going to _die_ ” won out, though Relm assured Aveline she’d help with the fugitive issue and address the Arishok as soon as she could.

Despite how much of a pain this was likely going to be, Relm welcomed the distraction. Just _something_ to get her mind off of Fenris for awhile. And really, it was going reasonably well.

Until they had to kill a bunch of Qunari warriors. Then Relm began to suspect that this night was about to go to shit.

“So, if the Arishok asks _why_ we killed a bunch of his men…” Relm stared down at the bodies, hands on her hips. “We’ll, uh, just say it was an accident.”

Isabela looked almost sheepish. “Uh, yes. About that. The relic belongs to the Qunari and there’s a _small_ chance they want it back.”

For a long, long moment, Relm just stared at her, unable to form a reply that didn’t involve shouting or grabbing Isabela by the shoulders and shaking her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Anders slap his hand against his forehead. Aveline sucked in a breath, likely undergoing the same struggle as Hawke.

Finally, the mage managed, “Do the Qunari _strike_ you as the sharing type? Of course they want it back!”

“I’ve always known what the relic is. I just didn’t want to… worry you.”

“ _Worry_ me?”

Isabela sighed. “It was written by their philosopher person. Cousland? Kosen? Whatever. It’s important to them and they can’t leave the Free Marches without it.”

As much as Relm still sort of wanted to punch her, she knew there was no point in getting worked up about it now. “You know, giving it back would solve Aveline’s problem. And get them out of the city.”

“I need it to save my own skin!” She explained why it was stolen, and who wanted it besides the Qunari. The man who currently had it was meeting with Tevinter leaders that night so they could purchase it off of him. Hawke grilled her for a few more answers, but Isabela eventually she grew tired of the questioning and said, “Look, that book is in that building and I am not letting it slip away from me again. Please tell me you’ll give it to me.”

_So it’s either give it to the Qunari and avert a possible war, and definitely a headache, or to Isabela to save her life._ Relm rubbed her hands over her face.

“It’s yours,” she said wearily. “Your life depends on it.”

Isabela’s brow winged up in surprise. “Really? I… wasn’t expecting that.” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s nice to have someone on my side for once.”

Not that it really mattered in the end, Hawke surmised. After they snuck in, the exchange fell apart when Qunari soldiers attacked, forcing the man with the tome to flee. Isabela gave chase, leaving Hawke and the others to deal with the opposing sides.

Once they finally made it outside, Isabela was long gone. The man laid dead on the ground, blood pooling below him. Stuck to him was a note from Isabela, apologizing and bidding Hawke farewell.

Relm sank to her knees, Isabela’s note clutched in her hand. Another loss, another blow to her heart that was already in pieces.

Aveline stepped next to her. “Hawke…”

“Just… leave me alone for a while. Please.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll… we can go to the compound in the morning. I promise.” She wondered if her voice sounded as dull and dead to them as it did to her.

“You shouldn’t walk home alone,” the captain insisted.

“Please.”

Relm hardly knew if they actually left or not. Her thoughts spiraled around the note in her hands, and she wondered just how much more loss she was going to endure before she snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. We're hitting the end of Act II, so you all know what means...


	24. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted, hurting and down on her luck, Relm faces the duel of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mass Effect: Andromeda is taking over my life, send help. Luckily it shouldn't interfere with chapter updates, as I planned ahead. That said, hope you all enjoy!

Things only went from bad to worse when Relm and Aveline went to the Qunari compound to negotiate the release of the elven fugitives. The Arishok waved off their questions about the elves, more interested in the fate of the tome.

“I don’t know where the tome is at this moment,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

“You speak the truth without revealing an answer.” The Arishok glowered, but Relm thought she detected a note of respect in it. Or maybe just begrudging admiration.

“We’re here to discuss the elven fugitives,” Aveline pressed.

“The elves have become viddathari. They have chosen to submit to the Qun.” He swung his weapon onto his shoulder, his visage looming above them. “They will be protected.”

_Aveline, please, let’s drop this._ But Relm knew it would be a wasted plea. “They may just be using you as a shield,” she said to him.

“They have chosen, and so have I.” He ranted about the corruption in the city and his disgust with it, a similar string of words Relm had heard many times before. Boredom and weariness helped tune him out.

When Aveline and the Arishok starting arguing, she stepped in. “We’re not here to argue,” Relm reminded them, losing patience and energy to deal with this.

“Their actions are the symptom. Your society is the disease.” The Arishok stepped towards them. “They have chosen. They will submit to the Qun and find a path your way has denied them.”

“You can’t just do that,” Aveline argued, but the Arishok ignored her once again.

Instead, he turned to Hawke. “What would you do in my place, Hawke?”

_Why do you care?_ “Leave the city. I understand how much you hate it here.”

“That cannot be done, and you know this. I cannot leave without the relic, and I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction.” He frowned severely. “There is only one solution.”

Despite her exhaustion, Relm felt her whole system tighten in panic, suddenly feeling very, painfully awake. _Oh fuck._

“Arishok,” Aveline lifted her hands up. “There’s no need for-”

He turned away from her, walking away. He glanced up at his men stationed around him. “Vinek kathas.”

Relm and Aveline exchanged tense looks, just before they found themselves in the middle of a storm of spears raining down upon them. They turned and fled, Aveline shouting and telling her guards to follow. Many of them fell as spears tore through their armor. As they ran for the gates, Hawke turned and found the Arishok staring at her, eyes hard and unreadable. She gritted her teeth before turning and fleeing the compound.

_You won’t get away this._

 

* * *

 

By the time they made it out of the docks and into the heart of Lowtown, the Qunari assault had already spread. They fought off soldiers as they carved their way through, trying to find the others. If they were to save the city, it would take everyone.

For the first time in what felt like ages, luck graced Hawke. Her friends were already gathered around the Hanged Man. A ring of dead Qunari surrounded them.

“Is anyone hurt?” Relm called out as she and Aveline approached. Instinctively, her gaze fell on Fenris, who was cleaning his sword off.

He lifted his head, and she saw a brief flash of relief wash over his face. As hard as it felt to do so, she smiled softly.

Sebastian answered Relm’s question with a sigh. “No serious injuries, despite the surprise assault.”

Anders rubbed his forehead. “I take it negotiations with the Arishok fell apart?”

Relm nodded. “He must have been planning this for ages, given how quickly the attack is spreading.”

Varric swung Bianca onto his back. “We should get up to Hightown,” he said. “That’s probably where they are. And that’s where the worst of the assault will hit.”

Aveline nodded. “They’ll hit the keep. And I’m worried about the viscount. We need to hurry.”

They gathered together and began the long trek to Hightown. Relm’s body teetered back and forth between exhaustion and alertness. She banked on adrenaline and rage to see her through this and keep her from collapsing. Rage that the Arishok attacked her home. Rage that everything she tried to fix seemed to go to shit. Rage that everyone seemed to leave her, no matter what she did.

She just hoped it would be enough to override the utter feeling of defeat she felt nowadays.

She saw from the corner of her eye Fenris lengthen his strides until he was at her side. Her hand itched to take his, but she shoved it into her pocket to prevent herself from doing as such. At least his presence helped ease some of the tension in her. It just also made it very hard to not do something that she knew he wouldn’t want.

“You still look exhausted,” he murmured as they hit the path that connected Lowtown to Hightown. “As certain as I am that this will fall on deaf ears, try to pace yourself in the battles ahead. You need to conserve your strength and not fling yourself at enemies as you’re wont to do.”

“I may not have a choice. There are a _lot_ of Qunari.” She didn’t want him to worry. So, she went with humor to alleviate the tension. “Like, at least a buttload. Possibly an assload.”

She almost smiled at the suffering glare he shot at her. “Would you at least maintain a distance, like Anders and Merrill do? That is where mages belong: in the _back_ , behind the armored fighters.”

“They like to rush at us, you know. Pick off the less defended ones.” Though she wore leather armor, as opposed to usual mage robes, it still afforded little protection against swords and axes.

“I will not allow you to come to harm during this, so long as you stay behind me.”

For the first time since they began walking, Relm looked at him, trying not to look taken aback by his words. “You… We don’t know what we’re going to face. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I don’t.”

 

* * *

 

He kept his word. As waves of Qunari soldiers broke over them, he kept them off of her. Often she turned around to find a soldier who was coming at her tackled by Fenris, or gutted as his sword or hand went through them. He was helped in part by Aveline and the others, of course – the benefit of fighting in a large group – but Relm could see he was specifically staying near her the whole time.

They moved en masse through Lowtown with few surprises, save for one significant one at one of city entrances.

Down the stairs ahead of them, they saw a group of Wardens fighting off Qunari combatants. Relm recognized Carver’s thick head of dark hair and immediately rushed in, despite Fenris’ earlier suggestion. Luckily, the others seemingly anticipated her reaction and charged in right after her.

With help from the Wardens, the Qunari went down quickly. As Relm straightened, she turned and nodded to Stroud.

“You have my thanks,” he said. “We were certainly not expecting the Qunari to suddenly attack.”

Relm considered asking him what he was even doing in Kirkwall – and also shooting a look at her brother for not _telling_ her he was here – but refrained because one, Warden business and all that and two, Carver cut in before she could.

“Should have known you’d be in the thick of it.” Carver walked up to her, giving her that judgmental and exasperated look she’d actually come to miss.

“Good to see you, too, Carver,” Relm muttered.

He looked over her shoulder, where she knew, from prior positioning and that little pull in her soul, Fenris was standing. Carver’s brow furrowed as he looked back at her.

_…what’s that look for? I didn’t tell him about anything that happened with Fenris._ She simply shook her head; now wasn’t the time.

“We must leave,” Stroud said, motioning to the other Wardens. “We’ve already been delayed enough with this attack.”

“You won’t stay and help?”

“Wardens cannot get involved in such affairs, and we have business elsewhere.” Stroud at least looked apologetic. “We will send word to the other city-states we pass, and hopefully they will send help. I still cannot believe the Qunari did this. This will start a war with the Free Marches for certain.” He sheathed his sword. “But still, we must go. I bid you luck, friend.”

As the Wardens began to turn and leave, Relm reached out to her brother. “Wait, before you go.” Her fingers curled against the blue and silver fabric on his arm. “About Mother…”

Carver stopped, turning back to her with a soft sigh. “I already know. I’m sure you did the best you could.”

Her fingers let go of his tunic in surprise. He bid her farewell, but she was too stunned to say anything. She’d braced herself for anger, disgust, or _anything_ but that. She watched in shocked silence as he walked out of Kirkwall, fingers clenching the air where his arm had been.

 

* * *

 

But the day seemed determined to ruin any goodness, and that little bright spot was blotted out hours later.

It wasn’t because Relm and her friends got hit with an unusually large and powerful Qunari force, or because a Saarebas nearly kicked their asses. It wasn’t because Knight-Commander Meredith saved them from said Saarebas (that was actually a pleasant surprise). It wasn’t even because Meredith and Orsino bickered until Relm had to interject and essentially take over as leader of their little assault group. It still wasn’t even because, with Orsino distracting the guards outside the keep and Meredith leaving to get more templars, Relm and her friends were left to charge the keep and try and save the nobles trapped inside.

No, what ruined her brief mood lift was the fact that Meredith now knew that she was a mage, having seen her casting spells at the Saarebas. She said she was willing to overlook it for now, but in that tone that promised there would be a _discussion_ later.

Not that there would be any actual discussion. More like “You’re a mage, you’re going to the Circle or face a templar’s blade.”

She stewed over it, cold panic tearing at her. She wisely kept her mouth shut until both Meredith and Orsino were gone. “Lovely,” Relm muttered as they dispatched yet another swarm of Qunari guards inside the keep. “Either the Arishok and his men kill me, or I get to go to the Circle. What a win-win.”

“Something might be worked out,” Aveline said in an unconvincing tone. “Not all mages reside within a Circle.”

“Maybe she’ll let you live outside it, for helping out with this?” Merrill piped up hopefully.

And of course Anders had to chime in, “Hawke, I won’t let you get dragged into that place. I’ll help you-”

“Stop trying to coddle me!” The anger lashed out, suddenly and violently, like a bowstring snapping under too much pressure. It took her and her companions by surprise. “She’s too damned keen on controlling mages, you all know that. And I can’t escape from here. There’s too much-” She shook her head. “It’s not an option. This is the end of the road for me, no matter how this plays out.”

Six pairs of eyes stared back at her, all unsure as to what to say. She didn’t expect them to have an answer; there _was_ none. If it weren’t for Fenris, her hope would be that the Arishok would kill her, though preferably not without him being taken out as well. No, for Fenris’ sake, the best option would be the Circle… where she would never see him or her friends again.

She wanted to scream. She almost did, barely suppressing it enough that it came out more as a strangled gasp.

“Let’s just… finish this.” She turned on her heel and strode towards the door leading further into the keep. Seconds later, she heard the others follow behind her, grim silence hanging over them as she pushed open the double doors.

Dozens of nobles stood in the room, screaming as the Arishok stood on the steps above them, cold eyes staring at the Viscount’s dismembered head that laid on the ground in front of them. His eyes were screwed in terror, frozen in his final, terrifying moment.

Relm surveyed the scene, concluding, _Welcome to rock bottom._

The Arishok lifted his head. “We have guests.”

Hawke and her entourage walked into the room, the nobles backing out of the way. The Arishok walked down the steps, weapon in hand.

“Shanedan, Hawke. I expected you.” He walked until he was practically standing chest-to-chest with her. “This is what respect looks like. Some will never earn it.”

She honestly didn’t know if he was talking _to_ her, or _about_ her. Honestly, she didn’t care anymore.

He continued, “You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is restored. How would you see this resolved without it?”

She wanted to snap at him that she didn’t have the answers, that in many ways, she’d been thrust into this relationship with the Qunari as unwillingly as he had with the people of this city. That she was fucking _tired_ and _hurting,_ that she just wanted it to be over. _What in the Void do you want me to say, you nug-licking-_

A loud bang from behind her caught her attention, as well as everyone else’s in the room. A Qunari soldier fell, either from being pushed or killed. The culprit strode in, stepping on the fallen Qunari.

“I believe I can answer that,” Isabela said, tome tucked under her arm as she headed over towards Hawke.

Relm’s eyes widened as she let out a happy gasp. “Isabela!” She almost couldn’t believe her eyes, that it was actually Isabela. She had lost so much lately with no hope of ever getting any of it back. For once, she was glad to be wrong.

Isabela answered with merely widening her smirk before handing the book to the Arishok. “I think you’ll find it… mostly undamaged.”

As the Arishok _almost_ smiled and took the tome, clearly in awe (and probably relieved), Isabela turned to Hawke. “It took me a while to get here, what with the fighting and all.”

Relm’s bottom lip quivered; tears were going to come. So be it, so long as they waited until after the Qunari left. Then she’d cry and pull Isabela into a big hug and she wouldn’t care _how_ much Isabela protested it. But for now, she settled on teasing, “Think of your reputation! What will people think of you now?”

“This is _your_ damned influence,” Isabela said, frowning in an almost overdramatic show of annoyance. “I was halfway to Ostwick when I knew I had to turn around. It’s pathetic.”

Relm’s smile widened. _You love it._

The Arishok handed the tome to a soldier. “The relic has been recovered. We are now free to return to Par Vollen-”

_Good. Get lost._

“- _with_ the thief.”

His words were like a splash of ice water to her face. She and Isabela exchanged startled looks before the pirate turned to him. “ _What_?”

Fenris snorted. “You thought you could strand them here for years, with no consequences?”

Relm bunched her fist. _Fenris, I love you, but you are_ not _helping._

“She stole the Tome of Koslun,” the Arishok said. “She must return with us. She will submit to the Qun and the Ben-Hassrath.”

“Oh no no no,” Aveline cut in. “If anyone’s going to kick her ass, it’s _me_.”

A few of the soldiers moved towards Isabela. Relm reached out her arm and pulled Isabela towards her, glaring at the soldiers. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare,” she seethed before turning towards the Arishok. “You have your relic. She stays here with us.” _I am not losing someone again._

Varric sighed. “I’m sure he’ll take that well.” Then, in a louder voice, “Rivaini, you might want to move this way.”

The Arishok cocked an eyebrow at Relm, either surprised or impressed with her boldness. “Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke, to a duel to the death. With her as the prize.”

“No!” Isabela tried to push Hawke aside. “If you’re going to duel anyone, duel me!”

“You are not basalit-an. You are not worthy.”

Hawke had wondered what it would feel like, to stare almost certain death in the face. Even after the many scrapes she found herself in over the course of her life, none seemed to present so dim a chance of surviving at this one.

At least dying for a friend wasn’t the worst way to go. “I accept your challenge.”

“So it will be!” The Arishok shouted something in Qunlat as he turned and strode towards the other side of the room.

Relm inhaled deeply, before pushing Isabela back towards the others. “If this goes badly, run. Don’t worry about me. Get yourself out of here.”

“Don’t you do this, Hawke!” Isabela snapped, even as Aveline dragged her back. “Hawke!”

Hawke stepped forward, swinging out her staff. She looked over her shoulder and took in her friends’ faces, knowing this might be the last time she’d get to see them. As her gaze fell on Fenris, her heart broke at the muted look of terror he wore.

She could hear the words plain as day: Don’t do this. Don’t die.

_I can’t stay behind you this time. I’m sorry, Fenris. I’m so sorry._ She let out a shaky breath. “I love you,” she mouthed to him.

She barely saw his eyes widen before she turned, facing down her adversary.

_Andraste, walk with me. Maker, don’t leave me._

The Arishok bellowed and charged, swinging his weapon forward as he drew near. She answered with a Stone Fist to his face. Her stomach dropped as he barely budged from it, though it gave her enough time to at least back up and put some distance between them.

The odds weren’t good. She was exhausted in every conceivable way, while he seemed full of vigor. He was large and powerful, while she barely broke 5’4” and definitely was no beefcake. _You have your magic. Use it._ It would be the only way she could win this.

Magic crackled along her fingertips as she flung spells at him, trying to be conscious of her mana but at the same time, not wanting to hold back so much and give him a chance to get too close. With his eyes constantly on her, using any of the hexes Merrill taught her would be out of the question. Healing would be difficult as well.

This was going to be a no holds barred fight. Her magic versus his might.

She moved quickly around him, pelting lightning and fire at him, trying to keep out of reach. Once or twice she managed to trick him into accidentally charging into one of the columns situated around the room. At best, it gave him a concussion. But mostly is just assured her that the Arishok wasn’t above making mistakes.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Despite being slower than her, the Arishok managed to close in on her plenty of times, his swings barely missing as she’d be forced to duck or dive out of the way. Once he’d managed to get her in the shoulder, sending her toppling and rolling on the ground. Only a quick burst of flame kept him at bay long enough for her to recover and get on her feet. But the pain slowed her, depleting more of her already diminished stamina.

As the battle dragged on, she realized he was going for a battle of attrition. He knew he could out last her. The heaviness in her limbs proved him right. To try and even the odds, if only a little, she Fade-Stepped to the far side of the room. Immediately she cast Pull of the Abyss near where the Arishok stood. The powerful gravity well pulled him back, even as much as he struggled against it. She seized the opportunity to pelt more spells at him as he was now helpless against them.

As the Pull spell ended, the Arishok snarled and broke free, running at Relm at an alarming speed. Winded from all the spellcasting, Relm’s legs felt like lead as she furiously tried to scramble away. Her vision blurred as she desperately tried to work up using another Fade-Step-

She _heard_ more than she saw the spear pierce her. Her hand instinctively grabbed it as it lanced through her chest. Her eyes stared at the intrusion, almost unable to believe it was there.

Distantly she heard someone scream her name.

The Arishok hoisted her up and spun her, slamming her back into a nearby wall. She screamed in pain. He twisted the spear in further, tearing the wound open even more. Blood seeped out; she could feel it soak her armor and drip down her legs.

_I can’t… I can’t let him win._ Her mind spun from the pain. She struggled to free herself. In the frenzy, a memory came back to her, something her father told her years ago.

_“I know you are not fond of the cold, of ice, but used right, it can devastate more than flame or lightning.”_

Drawing on her waning strength, Relm grabbed the Arishok’s spear with both hands. Out from her fingers poured ice magic, shooting its way down the shaft and encasing the Arishok’s hands and arms. He grunted and struggled to break free, but the ice built up too thick, even for all his brute strength.

“So you’ve trapped us both. To what end, Hawke?”

“To the end that you’re about to lose both your arms.”

Using his spear as leverage, Relm swung up her feet and, with all her remaining mana, shot an enormous burst of lighting through her legs as her feet connected with his chest. The ice shattered, destroying his arms. The sheer force of the spell broke them apart, sending him flying several feet before he slammed straight into the ground. He roared in pain.

Relm crumbled to the ground, grimacing as she pulled the spear out of her. One of her hands clutched her wound, blood spilling between her fingers. Reaching for her dagger, she crawled to the Arishok, steering clear of his legs. He watched as she crept towards him, defeat settling into his brow.

“Someday, we will return.”

“Piss off,” Relm muttered as she drove her dagger into his throat.

He gurgled, blood gushing out from the gash in his throat. After moments of convulsing, his body sagged as the life left him.

Relm heaved out a sigh of relief, though not for her sake. Warmth seemed to leave her as she struggled to her feet, her hands trying to still the blood flow, and failing.

Meredith burst in, trailed by her templars. Her brow lifted at the scene in the room. “So it is over?”

Relm’s vision blurred as she shakily walked back towards the others. The nobles in the room began to cheer, praising Hawke for her effort and informing Meredith of what occurred.

Relm opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly her eyes rolled as her body gave out from under her.

Her knees crashed against the floor, but before her head followed suit, familiar arms caught her, cradling her body as she was lowered to the ground.

As Relm struggled to stay awake, she saw her friends gather around her, worried shouts exchanged over her head. Anders was desperately trying to stop her bleeding; she faintly heard something about moving her and getting more healers.

“Don’t do this to me, Hawke,” she heard Isabela demand, though she couldn’t quite find the pirate in the swarm of faces around her. “Don’t you _dare_ do this to me!”

_I’m cold. I’m so cold…_ Relm’s eyes felt heavy. It was a battle to keep them open, one she knew she was eventually going to lose. _I’m sorry, everyone. I’m sorry, Fenris._

_Varric, please… take care of him._

She must have voiced her thoughts out loud, because the dwarf answered, “If you’re that worried about him, you stay alive and do it yourself.” His voice cracked. “C’mon, Hawke…”

Her strength began to leave her. Her head rolled back, her eyes starting to droop shut. The voices around her faded away, as if she was slipping underwater.

The last thing she saw was Fenris’ terrified gaze. She so desperately wanted to reach up and comfort him, try to offer him _something_ , but her body stopped responding to her. She could see his mouth move, saying something to her, but she couldn’t hear.

With the last of her strength, she began to speak, “Fenris. We’re…”

But even on death’s doorstep, she realized she didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, not when it would only hurt him. The words were left unspoken as the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Arishok fight was way more dramatic than the one I last played. So fun fact: you can cheese the fight by casting him in a Pull of the Abyss spell and siccing your mabari on him. Though maybe not so much a cheese as a lucky glitch I hit: he got stuck, even after the spell wore off, so it was just two or so minutes of Hawke's dog biting him and Hawke pelting him with spells.


	25. An Uncertain Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Qunari attack, Relm struggles with what lies ahead of her.

The scent of hay greeted Relm as she woke up. A sweet spring breeze blew through her open bedroom window. She stretched out her arms and sat up in her bed, inhaling deeply. The crack of her toes as she stretched her legs and feet brought a relieved smile. As she got up and put on clothes, she felt loose and limber, better than she had in-

_Better than what? I feel fine. Why wouldn’t I?_

Yet a vague feeling nagged at her that something wasn’t quite right. Relm shook her head and walked out of her room. _Must have had a bad dream or something._

She slipped on an old pair of boots by the door before walking outside, squinting in the bright sunlight. The farm stretched out before her, though it seemed unusually quiet. Normally she would hear Carver out helping with the animals, or Bethany and Leandra working in the kitchen.

Instead, all she saw was Malcolm, forearms resting against a fence, back turned to her as he stared out into the green landscape before him. Relm smiled brightly, running towards him. For some reason she felt like she had _missed_ him fiercely. “Where are Mother and the twins?”

“They went into town this morning,” he answered. His eyes kept trained on the grassy plain in front of them. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, confused as to why he was asking.

He nodded.

They began making small talk, about the farm and what was ahead of them that day. Yet beneath her happy exterior, his innocuous question bugged her. She really did feel quite fine. In fact, it almost seemed strange, how relaxed she felt…

The more they talked, the more the feeling grew. Nervously, she chewed on her bottom lip.

Malcolm took notice. “Is something bothering you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Ah.” He rubbed his beard, setting his head against his hand when he was finished. “Let me ask you: what did you do yesterday?”

“I…” Her mind blanked. It felt like wading through a fog as she struggled to think of what she did. “There was…” She furrowed her brow. “I can’t really remember. Why can’t I remember? Did something happen?”

“Not yesterday, but a few days ago. Try to remember.”

A creeping feeling of dread crawled through her. She began to remember fire, people screaming and the copper taste of blood on her lips as she fought.

“I was… in a city.” Her eyes widened. “Kirkwall.” The memories bombarded her: the Qunari assault, Isabela’s return, her fight with the Arishok…

_That’s right. He ran me through._ Relm closed her eyes, resignation settling in. “So that’s what happened.” Though she had known it could happen – and the odds were heavily in favor of it – it still hurt to know she was dead. “…at least I get to see you again.” Her voice cracked. She wanted to be happy to see her father, but her thoughts were with her friends, with Carver… and with Fenris.

“You’re worried about him.”

Relm looked at her father. “Of course I am. I…” She heaved out a sigh. “I couldn’t tell him, even in the end.” She gestured helplessly. “Now he might not ever know. A part of me hopes he doesn’t. It might make it worse. He wouldn’t want it, anyway. Not after…”

Suddenly, a bubble of anger swelled up in her. “You lied to me.” Her expression betrayed her hurt as she stared down Malcolm, who hardly seem fazed at her accusation. “All those stories you told me, they were just – they were all lies. There is no happy ending. It is just mates being ripped apart, by death or by fear. I was so _stupid_ to believe them, to think that once I found him everything would fall into place.” She snorted. “And look at how that turned out.”

Malcolm remained stoic, his eyes resting on hers, almost as if he were waiting.

“You’ve nothing to say?” Her words lashed out at him, hoping to spark _some_ kind of reaction. “That’s it, then? That’s how it is?”

He tilted his head slightly towards her. “Do you regret it?”

The question caught her off guard. “What?”

“Do you regret it? Being Fenris’ mate? Having had the dreams, having met him, all of it. Do you regret it?” He cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps even resent it? It’s caused you great pain, has it not?”

It honestly never occurred to her that she even _could_ regret it. She’d lived so strongly by the pro-soul mate rhetoric that she never considered that it could be a bad thing. She looked away in dismay.

_Do I? If I had the choice, would I opt not to have had any of it happen?_ A massive conflict of emotions played through her. Her mind said one thing, her soul another. And her heart stood in the middle, pulled back and forth by both sides, like two siblings fighting over a toy.

Relm sagged against the fence, sliding down it as her shoulders slumped. “I wish it had turned out differently. I wish I had gone into it with more caution, but… no. I can’t regret it. I can’t regret _him_. Is that… even normal? It all hurts so much now, and it seems insane that I’d let it happen again if I had to choose between that or never meeting him at all.”

Malcolm took a seat next to her. “The truth is, you cannot have the good without the bad. There is a price to having a soul mate. I wanted to protect you from that truth. I didn’t want you to be afraid of it. But I did you a great disservice by not telling you both sides. And I am sorry.”

“What, exactly, is the price?”

He sighed. “The bond mates share is unshakeable. But it is binding, too. Constricting, even. Being apart hurts. And with it brings a sort of dependency. Being unaware of it makes it easy to ignore, but once you know the truth, and once you’ve met your mate, it is done.”

“It’s like Myrella said. There’s power in knowing.”

“Yes.” He smiled sadly. “The mind and soul are connected, but as you know, they don’t always agree. And it can get ugly when that happens.”

Relm nodded, but it was too late now. “I guess… I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” _I’m sorry, Fenris. Maker, I’m going to miss you._

“If you don’t want to, no.”

She spun towards him. “Wait, what?”

Malcolm shrugged. “Right now, you’re not dead. But you’re hanging on by a thread.”

“I’m alive?”

“Yes.”

“…but you’re-” Then it hit her. “I’m in the Fade.”

He nodded.

“Then who are you?”

He raised his brow. “We’ve met before.”

Relm scooted closer, peering at “Malcolm” with narrowed eyes. Something _did_ feel familiar… “Are you that spirit? The one that used to help me dream about Fenris?”

“Hello again, little bird.” The spirit shed Malcolm’s appearance, returning to its natural form. “I hope you are not angry, but I wanted to come to you as someone you knew and trusted. You needed to see him again. I wanted to help.”

Relm supposed she did feel a little better, after talking to it. “Is Fenris all right?”

“He’s hardly left your side. He watches the one Justice inhabits, eyes never missing a detail as he casts his magic over you. He worries. They all worry. You’ve been asleep a few days.”

Relm clambered to her feet. “I need to go back.”

“If you want to.” The spirit watched her. “I cannot promise it will be any easier.” It got to its “feet” as well. “The choice is yours. Death promises relief, but no chance to turn things around. Life promises pain, but an opportunity for better days.”

She desperately missed her father, and her mother and Bethany as well. But she knew she could not turn her back on Fenris and her friends, or leave Carver as the last Hawke in the world.

The spirit smiled. “You’re going back.”

She nodded. “I am.”

“A choice fitting a Champion.”

Relm tilted her head in confusion. “Er…?”

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Relm wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Anyway, thank you for this. But… did you only say what I wanted to hear, or what he really felt?”

“I said what was needed to be said.” The spirit reached out its “hand”. “Good luck, little bird. Before you go, remember this: your story isn’t over yet.”

Before Relm could ask what it meant, its “hand” touched her forehead, and everything went blank.

 

* * *

 

Pain greeted Relm as soon as she woke up. Her hand blindly reached for where the pain emanated from; it was met by another hand grabbing it, halting its movements.

She heard voices around her, and heavy footsteps moving away from her.

“Hawke.” Fenris’ deep voice cut through the fog in her mind. “Are you able to open your eyes? Varric just went to get Anders.”

For him, she would try. Her eyelids felt as if they were weighed down by lead weights. She fought against the heaviness and eventually succeeded in cracking them open. In the dimly lit room, she managed to make him out. He looked harried, green eyes sharply scanning over her.

“Did we win?” she croaked out jokingly.

“Not funny, Hawke.”

She huffed. “The Qunari _did_ leave, right?”

“They have left the city. With the Arishok dead and the tome recovered, they had no reason to stay.” His frown deepened, eyes hard and boring into hers.

“…why do you look upset over it?”

“I am not upset they left.” His hand tightened over hers. “I am upset over how it happened. You have no idea how close you came to dying, Hawke. Anders was assisted by First Enchanter Orsino and another mage in healing your injuries. Even still, you…” The grip became vice-like. “We almost lost you the other night.”

She supposed it was good that he was angry; it meant he still cared. “I’m sorry, Fenris. But I couldn’t let them take Isabela. She’s my friend. This all may have been the result of her actions, but remember that she got into that mess in the first place because she freed slaves she was meant to transport.” Now she shot _him_ a critical look. “And in the end, she came back and made it as right as she could.”

Fenris let out a long sigh through his nose. “I hope she knows how fortunate she is.” He loosened his grip, but not before moving her hand and pressing it against her chest. “You frightened me.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Relm gave him a tired smile. “Bleeding heart and all. You know how it goes.”

Something passed through his expression that Relm could not read. Hesitant silence lingered between them. He struggled with something, and Relm could only wait until he finally mustered the resolve to speak.

“Did you mean what you said, before the fight?”

_What I… oh._ She had told him she loved him, words spoken when she thought she was facing certain death. And perhaps that was why he questioned it now. “I did. I still do. Please don’t think I expect anything, Fenris. I just… I wanted you to know.”

He looked away, brow creased in… guilt? She could not tell. “I do not deserve it.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Before an argument could crew, Anders swept in. Fenris stepped aside as the healer went to work, checking her wounds and chastising her for being a “bloody, self-sacrificing hero”.

Varric spread word that she had woken up. From then on, her friends came in and out in a swirl of company and activity, checking in on her.

Aveline, along with a sound scolding, brought life-changing news on her visit. “Your actions, as insane as they were, aren’t going unrecognized.” She crossed her arms as she regarded Hawke. “With you having survived your injuries, the city now recognizes you as its new Champion.”

_So that’s what the spirit was hinting at._ Relm’s brow shot up all the same. “Champion?”

“Yes. Honestly, it’s not going to be much different than what you’ve already been doing for the city. Now it just comes with a title… and the Grand Cleric’s blessing that you be allowed to live outside the Circle.”

The sigh of relief left Relm in a rush; her body sagged against the bed. “That’s… something. Not that I’m going to enjoy living under Meredith’s scrutiny.”

“You’ve done nothing that would ever give her reason to come after you,” Aveline said. “And maybe this will help with tensions in the Gallows. As much as I might want to shake you sometimes, you _are_ a good example of what mages could be. Of what they _should_ be. If those in the Circle have you to look up to, perhaps things will turn around.”

_No pressure or anything,_ she thought sarcastically _._ But she understood where Aveline was coming from, and she could only hope she was right.

Aveline left when it grew dark, leaving Relm to drift off to sleep. She was awakened a few scant hours later by someone shaking her shoulder.

She cracked open her eyes to find Isabela leaning over her. Her expression was composed, save for the slight furrow of her brow.

Somehow, Relm knew why she was there. “You’re leaving again.”

“I have to lay low for awhile. Castillon will be after me for losing the relic.” She sighed. “And no, I can’t do it here. He knows I’m here, and I am _not_ dragging you into this any further. It’s bad enough you got yourself impaled over it.”

“My choice,” Relm said. “And think of it this way: I’ll have a wicked scar when it finally heals up.”

“And Varric a new story to blow out of proportion.”

Relm tried not to look upset as Isabela turned towards the door. “Be safe, Isabela. Will you… are you ever going to come back?”

“…maybe. Possibly.” Isabela turned, and she groaned as she looked at Hawke. “Oh, don’t give me that kicked puppy look. It’ll be awhile, if I do. No point in-”

“I can wait. Kirkwall’s not going anywhere.” She paused. “Hopefully. You never know with this place.”

Isabela laughed, giving Hawke a wave as she headed towards the door. “Good luck, Hawke. If this place somehow doesn’t crawl into the ocean, I might wind up back here.”

 

* * *

 

In the days that followed, the city began to recover from the Qunari assault. Relm often heard hammers and other such cacophony through her bedroom window as she healed alongside the city. The noise served as the backdrop for Relm’s otherwise quiet days. Being bed-ridden gave her little to do but think.

A week of it finally drove her to open up to Varric one night when he came by to visit.

“What am I going to do?”

The dwarf cocked a brow from his seat in the armchair Bodahn brought up for Relm’s frequent visitors. “About?”

“Everything. Being a Champion, living as a known mage, helping keep this city from tearing itself apart…” She gestured helplessly towards the outside. “And all the while trying not to go crazy because my soul is constantly in agony.” She huffed. “As melodramatic as that sounds.”

“How bad are we talking here?”

Relm summarized for Varric what Myrella and later on the spirit had told her.

“At the risk of being overdramatic again, it’s a relentless battle between my mind telling me it’s done and over with and my soul screaming that it isn’t and I need to be with him.” She stared up, wishing that the answer would appear in the grooves in the ceiling. “Frankly, I don’t know how this is going to work or for how long.”

Varric shot her a considering look. “Hawke, you might need to tell him. For your sanity’s sake.”

“And that will send him running, if not worse. My situation now isn’t ideal, but it could be worse.”

“So you plan on being in continual pain for the rest of your life?”

She honestly didn’t know. Perhaps eventually she’d learn how to live with it. Or maybe it really would drive her mad. It beat losing Fenris permanently. To his question, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we’re going to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter, we hit Act III, with a small time skip.


	26. An Unexpected Kind of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few things surprise Relm today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, Act III. When things get real fun. 
> 
> Thanks again to all of you who read, commented and/or left kudos! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

In the vacuum left behind by the Viscount’s death, Meredith stepped in as de facto ruler until another one could be appointed. Or so she said. Nearly a year and a half later, she was still ruling the city, with no mention of a replacement.

With her newfound power, Meredith’s grip on the mages tightened even more. The more they resisted, the more she squeezed. The more she squeezed, the more they resisted. She used her position as a platform to initiate a city-wide crackdown on apostasy and the mage underground. The underground was shut down, and the victory only spurred Meredith and her Order further. Anything within the purview of magic and mages faced Meredith’s increasingly paranoid wrath. Dozens of investigations of purported abuse of magic were launched.

First Enchanter Orsino struggled and fought against Meredith’s restrictions at every turn. But his resistance only went as far as the Circle. In the city, another force opposed Meredith.

Soul mate belief endured some of the worst of her paranoia. Any reports of it were treated with the highest level of alarm, and the strictest punishments. In response, Myrella and her group, having narrowly dodged Meredith’s templars, abandoned their tactic of secrecy and began resisting more openly. Pamphlets and graffiti popped up around the city, urging the populace to think for themselves and expose Meredith’s paranoia for what it was. And though the knight-commander attempted to stamp them out, the group kept bouncing back, a lot in thanks to them being secretly backed by the city’s Champion.

Relm funneled funds to them when she could. They often used her wine cellar as a hideout during the routine raids in Darktown for suspected apostates. Anders often crashed at her place; his clinic was investigated frequently, the templars having long suspected it was run by an apostate. As hectic – and dangerous – as helping them could be, they were at least a good distraction for Relm. With each month that passed, she needed it more and more.

In her room, she read over Myrella’s latest letter to her. In it, the embittered leader ranted yet again about Meredith’s increasing restrictions, and the corner they were slowly being backed into:

                _I fear more desperate measures may need to be taken soon. As loathe as I am to incite fighting again, the stakes this time are far higher than they were years ago. At least we had a viscount back then to mediate. But without one, and with the Grand Cleric content to let her templar bitch run loose, we might not have the luxury of playing nice and keeping to the moral high ground. Perhaps we should look to outside help. I’ll think on it._

_Again, many thanks for all your help. I wish we had more to show for it._

_\-  M_

_P.S. I’ve enclosed more sleeping draughts as you requested. Hawke, you should not be taking them so regularly though. I’ve seen many become addicted to the stuff. I’d hate to see it happen to you._

Relm ignored her advice – as she had for months now – and pulled out the draughts. She sighed in relief as she turned one over in her hands. _Finally, I’ll get some sleep again._

The awful truth was, things had gotten worse for Relm. Without something to help her – whether it was sleep draughts or alcohol – sleep eluded her entirely. She would lay awake the whole night, writhing in pain and spend the entire time convincing herself that it was _not_ okay to crawl to Fenris’ home and cling to him, no matter _how much_ it hurt not to. It was an argument that was getting harder and harder to make. So she resorted to self-medicating and hoping that she could get by that way.

She pushed aside Myrella’s letter, too tired to deal with it right now, and got to her feet. She grimaced as her body ached from the minor effort. The constant pain she was in felt familiar anymore, something she’d simply grown accustomed to. The exhaustion she dealt with was hard, but not impossible. She was used to getting by on little sleep. Those things in and of themselves were not the worst of it.

Relm’s head suddenly felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. “Shit – no, no, no!” She grabbed her head as she fell to her knees, bolts of pain bursting from behind her eyes as her whole body went rigid, muscles contracting and making it impossible for her to move. She barely bit back a scream.

The worst part about her life right now were these episodes that started six months ago. To say they were unbearable only scratched the surface.

She clenched her teeth, trying to ride out the pain as it pulsed through her. There was nothing she could do to stop it or alleviate it, save letting it run its course.

When it finally passed, Relm collapsed into a heap on the floor, her body trembling from the exertion. It was all she could do to curl herself up into a ball before she passed out.

 

* * *

 

A hand shaking her shoulder woke her up.

“Hawke! Shit, did you have another one?”

Relm blearily opened her eyes, finding Varric staring down at her. “Yeah.”

“Again?” he said, kneeling down next to her. “The last one was only... what, two weeks ago? They’re usually farther apart than that.”

Her muscles groaned in pain as she shifted to sit up.

“How long did this one last?” Varric asked as he helped her straighten.

She thought back. She never exactly timed them, but at a guess, “…about ten minutes.”

“That’s the longest one yet.” Varric leveled a hard look at her. “Hawke, they’re getting worse and happening more frequently. And I don’t think it’s your sleeping draughts that’s causing them.”

As she finally moved into a sitting position, Relm absently rubbed her shoulder. “No, I don’t think so, either. I think we always knew what the problem was.” Her soul. The best she could figure, it was lashing out. Or maybe it was some kind of response to being essentially starved for over a year. Was that even the right word? _Maker, I can’t even think…_

“Do I even have to say it?”

She glared at him. “You know what my answer will be. If I tell him, he leaves. And _that_ will worsen things for sure.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Varric, he hates the idea of soul mates almost more than anyone I know. Telling him would-”

“Have you even _asked_ him why he does?”

The question came out of nowhere, catching Hawke off guard. “Wh – you think I should ask him why? What does it matter? It’s probably because of its association with spirits.”

“I just think that you need to start exploring your options,” he said. “And maybe figuring this out. Hawke, you can’t keep going like this.”

“I can’t-”

“ _It’s going to kill you!”_

It was rare to see Varric yell, or even raise his voice. Relm jolted back, not expecting such ferocity.

Varric sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Sorry, but I think that’s where this is headed. First it’s not being able to sleep, now your body is physically reacting. You’re in constant pain. Eventually, something’s gotta give. Either your body or your mind will. I don’t know which would be worse.”

She looked down at the floor, struggling to think of something to say. She wished there was an easy solution. No matter what scenario she played out in her head, she lost. And each one hurt more deeply than the last, made her more afraid than ever.

“Just… give it some thought, will you? And soon.” Varric got to his feet. “But I didn’t come here to argue. Actually, I have some good news. You should come by the Hanged Man tonight.” He grinned. “There’s someone there I think you’ll want to see.”

 

* * *

 

Despite feeling and probably looking like a haggard mess, Relm followed Varric to the beloved tavern. As they neared, she felt that pull in her soul. Relm hesitated. “Who… all is here?”

“The whole gang, minus Choir Boy but including Donnic.” Varric beckoned her to come in, knowing why she was dithering. “As much as Aveline is probably regretting bringing him.”

“Why?”

He merely smirked before walking inside.

Relm huffed but followed him in, her nose scrunching as the stench of the place assaulted her. Somehow, she never grew used to it. She was two steps behind Varric as they wove through the throng of people gathered around the tables. As they trekked deeper into the room, she began to hear the voices of her friends rise over the din. But there was one that she hadn’t expected to hear.

“See now, Aveline?” Isabela said as she perched her hip against a table. “Aren’t you glad I butted in when I did? Here you two are, all thanks to-”

“Your _suggestion_ had nothing to do with it!” Aveline snapped back, even as Donnic chuckled under his breath.

“Yep,” Varric said as they approached. “Definitely regretting bringing him.”

Relm hardly paid his words mind as she stopped and stared. After a year of not hearing anything, Relm had given up on seeing her friend again. And yet there she stood. A rare grin spread across her face. “Isabela?”

The pirate looked over, her smirk fading into something a little softer. “Hawke.”

Before Relm even realized she’d begun moving, she was pulling Isabela into a hug. The pirate squawked in protest. “Shush,” Relm said. “You owe me one anyway.”

Isabela sighed in resignation. “Think of my reputation.”

“You ruined it when you came back with the tome, remember?”

Isabela snorted. “And it’s hardly recovered since.” To Relm’s surprise, she felt Isabela return the gesture.

Knowing not to push her luck too much, Relm stepped back after a moment, still smiling as she took in Isabela’s appearance. “You look well.”

“And you… don’t.” Isabela’s brow puckered. “You look like shit, Hawke. Long night?”

“I got sick,” Relm said, the lie stumbling out. “Still recovering, but Varric insisted I come tonight.”

Anders looked over. “Again? Hawke, that’s the third time in as many months. I really wish you’d come see me when these illnesses hit, rather than toughing them out.”

_Shouldn’t have used that excuse again,_ she thought, wanting to kick herself. But saying she was sick was the easiest and most believable excuse for her condition. Now, however, it seemed she had begun to worry her friends.

Aveline’s brow creased. “You used to be a lot hardier. Is being Champion doing this to you?”

…and also arouse suspicion, judging by the look on Aveline’s face. “I don’t know. Probably isn’t helping things.”

“Perhaps you should take some time for yourself, away from the city.” Fenris’ deep voice was soft with his suggestion. As Relm turned to face him, fighting the urge to look away (after all, she had to keep up appearances that they were just friends and everything was _fine_ ), he continued, “Kirkwall will be fine without you for a time. You should not sacrifice yourself for the sake of supporting something else.”

It took Relm everything she had not to laugh at the bitter irony of his words. From the corner of her eye, she saw Varric glance away for a moment; he must have been thinking the same thing.

“I’ll consider it,” she murmured, before adding more loudly, “but not right now, not with Isabela having just come back.” She took a seat, gesturing for Isabela to sit next to her. “Where’ve you been, anyway?”

“Ha. Where _haven’t_ I been?”

Relm leaned back in her chair to listen, glad, for once, to have something to take her mind off of the elf watching her.

 

* * *

 

The spring night breeze felt cooler than normal, making Relm huddle under her cloak a bit more as they all began the trek home. Varric and Isabela walked with them, as was their usual custom. It felt good to see the whole gang together again (minus Sebastian, but they were used to him not joining their evenings at the Hanged Man). Relm hung back a bit from the main group, content to watch everyone as they interacted.

Merrill seemed just as glad as Relm to have Isabela back. She smiled as she watched the women talk and laugh with each other. Another bout of laughter caught her attention. Donnic was snickering as Fenris said something to him, the two men grinning a bit as they walked side by side.

Now that was a friendship Relm hadn’t expected to see. The polite guardsman met them all through Aveline, and though he got on well enough with the others, he and Fenris had struck up a friendship quickly. Donnic treated him as an equal, and they shared a camaraderie that almost rivaled what she had with Varric. She was so grateful to Donnic for being such a good friend to Fenris. She wished she had the nerve to thank him for it, but she knew it would sound odd, coming from her. He might not even know about her past relationship with Fenris.

Fenris glanced back her way. Shame-faced at being caught staring, Relm quickly glanced at the ground.

In her embarrassment, she missed the shadow darting into an alleyway behind her.

She kept her eyes trained away from Fenris, as if to convince them both she hadn’t been staring. As they moved through Lowtown, she began to sense something was following her. But whenever she looked, she found nothing but shadows. _You’re getting paranoid, probably from being overly tired._ The episode earlier, coupled with the drinks she had at the Hanged Man, wore her out. Maybe, just maybe, she’d be exhausted enough to go to bed without the draught tonight. Perhaps focusing on Isabela’s stories and her being back would be enough to-

“Hawke!”

Before she realized what was happening, she was yanked to the side by Fenris, a split second before a knife from the darkness swiped at her, grazing her skin.

A dwarven rogue leapt from hiding, his eyes glazed over as he stared at Hawke. “The blood of Hawke. We found it!”

Despite being wide open, the dwarf charged, running straight for Relm. Other dwarves leapt from the shadows as well, weapons drawn, all their attention focused on Hawke. Fenris pitched forward, kicking the rogue coming at them. His foot connected with his chest, knocking the dwarf back.

The others quickly joined in as the attackers converged on them.

“Carta?” Varric exclaimed as he drew out Bianca. “Are you people insane? You’re attacking the Champion of Kirkwall! And she’s armed!”

“She has the blood. We need the blood!” The dwarves hacked and slashed at Relm’s friends, driven by a single-minded determination to get at her and, apparently, her blood.

Fenris placed himself squarely in front of Relm, fending off the dwarves who managed to get to them. Relm’s back pressed against his, throwing up a Barrier spell. One or two dwarves managed to get around and directly attack her. She answered with a burst of fire, followed by a chain of lightning for good measure.

One suddenly came from the shadows, having managed to avoid detection. Daggers drawn, she leapt at Hawke from the side. The Champion, having been too focused on a different attacker, hadn’t seen her, not until those blades tore into her flesh.

Relm screamed, her knees buckling under the pain. Blindly she shot magic out in the direction of the attacker, hoping to get them off.

“The blood… we need the blood-“

Relm heard that familiar sickening crunch of someone’s heart – or other vital organ – being ripped out of their body. The attacker was thrown off her, landing with a heavy thud. She clutched her wounds, desperately trying to focus enough to heal them.

Fenris crouched down next to her. His fingers gently moved to her injuries. He hissed at the sight of them, before turning and bellowing, “Anders!”

“I’ve… I’ll-” Relm’s arms shook as she struggled to summon her magic. The pain made it nearly impossible to think; Fenris’ presence wasn’t helping matters.

He pressed his hand against hers to help stymie the blood flow. Relm inhaled sharply through her nose, ramping up her effort to focus on healing and not on Fenris’ touch.

Luckily, Anders swooped in to save the day. “I got it. Both of you need to move your hands.”

“What about-“

“We’ve got the last of them,” Anders answered, glancing up at Fenris. “If there were more, they beat a retreat.”

As Anders poured magic into Relm’s injuries, Varric snorted in disgust, stepping around the fallen bodies. “The Carta’s a lot of things, but they’re not stupid. Why would they attack Hawke like that?”

_I’d love to know that, too._ “Don’t think I’ve done anything that would piss them off,” Relm said, wincing as she felt her skin begin to stitch back together. “Usually I try to steer clear of them.”

“I’m gonna put some feelers out and see what’s going on,” Varric said. “This kind of a hit – especially at this scale – doesn’t get put together without people hearing about it.”

“There’s something else going on here,” Aveline chimed in, finally sheathing her sword, having deemed it safe for now. “They kept mentioning something about needing her blood. Seems a _little_ on the unusual side for Carta.”

Relm got to her feet, Anders having finished healing her. He and Fenris steadied her. “Hey, maybe there’s a booming business for blood. First they started with lyrium, now…” She glanced to the side. “You know what, not gonna run with that joke.”

“Appreciated” Fenris and Anders muttered at the same time.

“I’ll let you know what I come up with.” Varric adjusted his gloves. “You gonna be okay getting home?”

“I will see her home,” Fenris said.

That made Relm stupidly happy, and she was too tired to care about how bad of an idea that might be.

Isabela snorted and shook her head. “I’m back for _one_ day, and we get attacked by crazy Carta dwarves. Lovely.”

Relm mustered up a smile. “Welcome back, Isabela.”


	27. A Crumbling Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke has a really bad day.

As if being attacked by Carta out of the blue wasn’t bad enough, Relm learned almost two weeks later that the same thing had happened to Carver while he was staying in the Warden fortress near Ansburg.

After informing Varric, Relm found herself in a foul mood as she traversed Darktown. He was doing his best to figure out why the Carta had attacked her – and now her brother – but so far his contacts had come up with nothing. To say she was frustrated understated her feelings considerably. On top of everything else, she now found herself having to constantly watch her back, looking for knives in the dark itching to draw blood.

 _Tired, hurting, miserable, and now paranoid. Aren’t I just a ray of sunshine?_ she thought darkly as she wound her way through the winding paths in the city’s underbelly. _Going to Myrella’s might not be the best pick-me-up, but at least it’ll be doing something semi-productive._

She knew the path all too well, and shortly found herself outside the hidden headquarters. She opened the latch and climbed down, immediately calling out that it was her. Once or twice, one of the jumpier members of Myrella’s group fired off spells at her when they didn’t recognize her immediately. And with tensions having grown so much in recent months, Relm avoided taking that chance of nearly being singed or electrocuted.

Her preparedness spared her this time. A young elven man greeted her, telling her that Myrella was in the back. He offered to show her, but Hawke merely thanked him and went on in; she knew this place like the back of her hand.

“You know,” Relm began as she entered the room, nearly startling Myrella, who was poring over some papers, “I still think a little bit of paint would go a long way. Or, at least a scrub.”

Myrella usually fired back some sarcastic retort. But today, she said nothing. Rather, she continued staring down at a piece of parchment in front of her.

Relm stilled. “Myrella?”

“Three people were killed in a templar raid just this morning.” Myrella kept her back turned to Hawke, hands digging into her hair as she leaned forward. “One was an escapee from the Circle. He ran to a couple that we knew, who were apostates as well. They took him in. They wrote to us, asking for help. I only got their letter yesterday. When I sent one of mine this morning to meet with them, she found the place overrun with templars.” She finally turned towards Hawke. “She saw their bodies burning in a pile. None of the templars were injured. I doubt they even fought.” Her lips pressed together tightly. “I’m sure they’ll claim they were attacked and fought back, but I knew those people, Hawke. They would have surrendered peacefully, rather than risk a firefight.”

Hawke almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “They just killed them? Are you sure that the runaway didn’t attack them?”

“It’s possible, but why kill all three if that was the case?” Myrella shook her head. “No, this was murder. Cold-blooded murder. And they’ll get away with it, too.”

“Let me guess: the couple were soul mates.”

“Yes. And they were being looked at, we think. It seems the templars took matters into their own hands.” She cursed loudly, suddenly kicking the wall in front of her. “Damn them! If I had just been a little faster, I might have been able to…”

Relm walked up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You know we won’t be able to save everyone. Now that we know what the templars are willing to do, we can go from there.”

“Go where? If they’re willing to kill innocents over _suspected, unproven_ beliefs, then we’re up against an unstoppable monster.” Myrella shoved off Relm’s hand. “Meredith has to be stopped, but at this rate… we need to take much more drastic action.”

Relm did not like the sound of that at all. “What do you have in mind?”

“Every major power in this city is against us. And those powers are prevalent in pretty much every place in Thedas, save for a few areas.” Myrella’s voice grew quiet as she continued, “But within those few areas, there are those who would gladly see those powers topple. People who might be willing to help to see that happen.”

Relm’s gut churned uncomfortably. She signed onto this to help people such as Anders and Rose and Tislin out, not to topple governments. “Myrella-”

“I know it’s a gamble. I’m not considering it lightly. But something has to change. The Chantry has a stranglehold on us. And it’s everywhere, save for two places. One being Par Vollen, but the Qunari are worse about soul mates than the Chantry is.” She gestured to Hawke. “The other is Tevinter.”

The sneering faces of Danarius and his friends flashed through Relm’s mind. Her lip curled. s“You can’t be serious. You want to go to the magisters for help?”

“Like I said, Tevinter would love nothing more than to see southern Thedas erupt in chaos. And chaos is what we need to change things. If enough can be convinced-”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Relm snapped. Fury made her bunch her fist at her side. “You turn this into a full blown war – especially if you involve Tevinter – and the people are never going to accept you, they’ll never accept soul mates. You’ll alienate them even more!”

“It already _is_ a war. And we’re losing. Badly.” Myrella shoved the letter she was reading at Relm. “Tell me, how many more people are we going to lose to this before we realize that we’re being systematically wiped out? The Chantry will stop at nothing until we’re gone. We need to turn the tide, for the sake of our lives!”

“And getting the Imperium involved is going to sway that? They can’t even beat the damn Qunari, let alone help sway the rest of Thedas into an idea that the Chantry has denounced for centuries! I don’t even know if _they_ accept the idea!” Relm all but snarled. “And are you really willing to toss aside your morals to work with them? They own slaves!”

Myrella let out a suffering sigh. “I’m not saying I want to be their friend. But a few willing magisters could help funnel funds to us. They might even be able to help infiltrate positions of power and get more sympathetic minds inside the Keep and Chantry. Or even convince current people into our cause.”

“ _How_?”

When Myrella glanced away, Relm seethed. “Blood magic doesn’t solve anything. Maker’s shit, Myrella! You’re turning into what the people of Thedas fear!”

“Blood magic is not evil! It’s in how it’s used, and _why_ it’s being used.” Myrella glared stonily at Hawke. “And it’s just an option. There might be other ways they can help. As to their reputation, for all we know, most accounts we hear about Tevinter are overblown.”

“Not from what I’ve been told.” Hawke glared back at her. “I have a friend who escaped from there. He served under a magister. The horror stories he’s told me…” More like the horror stories she _saw_.

“You just so happen to be friends with an escaped slave?”

Her skepticism – which almost bordered on disdain – made Relm’s blood boil. “ _Yes,_ I am. His name is Fenris, and he could tell you all _sorts_ of very true stories about Tevinter if you ask him. That place isn’t the answer. Look elsewhere.”

The other mage turned away fully, blocking out Hawke. “It doesn’t matter what your ‘friend’ has to say. I’ve already begun making inquiries.”

“You do this, you lose my support.”

Myrella scoffed. “I don’t need fair weather friends, or those who’d impose their beliefs on me. No one’s forcing you to do this.”

She should have known an ultimatum would not go over well, but the words still cut her. “Fine.” Relm spun on her heel and stormed out. She regretted having to do it, to abandon this group and their cause in which she so strongly believed. But she knew she would regret it more if she continued working with them. She’d rather stab out both her eyes than ever work with a magister, and it piled on more hurt to know that Myrella cared so little about their relationship and Hawke’s contributions that she could just toss her aside like that.

Relm began to wonder if there was something truly wrong with her.

 

* * *

 

Her foul mood hung over her like a dark storm cloud when she barged back into her mansion. She slammed the door behind her, ripping off her staff from her back as she made a beeline for her room.

“Oh, messere! You’re home!” Bodahn shuffled out from the study, oblivious to her rage. “Master Fenris has been here for a little while. We thought you might have canceled tonight.”

Relm stumbled to a stop. _Shit!_ She had completely forgotten about tonight’s reading lesson. And in her fury, she hadn’t even felt that Fenris was inside. She grimaced, wiping a hand over her face. “No, no, I’m sorry. Just got caught up. Um, let me get my staff and armor off and I’ll be down.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she ground out, resuming her trip to her room.

Once she got inside, she quickly stripped off her armor, not bothering to set it all out on her armor stand. She felt bad enough for making Fenris wait. Propping her staff up in a corner, she then threw on an over shirt before hurrying back down the stairs and sharply turning into the study.

Her anger still churned under the surface, but Fenris hardly deserved to be at the brunt of it. She tried taking deep, calming breaths as she stepped into the room, forcing a smile in greeting to the elf sitting in one of the chairs. “Sorry. Errand took a little longer than I’d have liked.”

He watched her enter, brow furrowed ever so slightly. “I did not mind.”

Relm strode to the bookcase, turning her back to Fenris as she searched for something to read for tonight. Her whole body was tense from her earlier argument. She forced a few more deep breaths, hoping to release the anger coiled in her gut.

“Should we postpone this?” Relm heard Fenris shift in his seat as he spoke. “You seem upset.”

“I… it’s not at you.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Met with a… an associate. We had an argument. Pretty sure it ended our relationship.”

“Knowing you, it would have taken something serious for you to be this angry.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You weren’t exactly quiet when you came in,” he said dryly. “Given your propensity for hiding how you feel, your anger must be considerable.”

Relm ran a hand through her hair, dislodging her braid. With a huff, she swiftly undid the rest of it as she stared at the ground. “She offered some views on things which I vehemently disagreed with. I didn’t think she was that kind of person, but I was wrong.” She shook her head, looking back at the bookcase when her hair finally came loose. “I won’t bog you down with the details.” It would require explaining far more than she felt comfortable sharing with him. “It’s just something I’m going to have to accept.”

“I am sorry if your friendship was ruined because of it. But, if she isn’t who you thought she was, then perhaps it is best that the relationship is severed.”

 _If only it were that simple._ Relm peered through the books, trying to find one that would be a little more challenging then what he’d been reading. She reached up and pulled out a book of stories, one that she remembered from her later childhood years. But as she turned, she stopped, remembering one or two of the stories inside were about soul mates. Immediately she put it back on the shelf and resumed her search.

“Changed your mind?”

“You wouldn’t like the stories inside.”

“Because?”

She sighed heavily. “Soul mates. It’s only one or two, but I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

A tense silence followed, as it always did when the subject was brought up. Any other time, Relm would just let it stand until she could think of something else to talk about. But after her argument with Myrella, and remembering her conversation with Varric two weeks ago, she felt compelled to do something she never thought she’d dare to do: push the subject.

“Fenris.” Giving up her search for the moment, she glanced back at him. “May I ask you something?”

“You may.”

His tone was a little terse. He knew what she was going to bring up. She refused to let it daunt her. “I know about your stance on the topic, and I know you have your reasons… but I was wondering: is that view shared throughout Tevinter? Given their, ah, embracing approach to magic, I thought…”

She half expected him to brush off the topic. Surprisingly, he seemed to give it a bit of thought, rather than lash out for bringing it up. “Like the rest of Thedas, I imagine there are those who truly believe it. Swayed by demons or whatever other reasoning. While I understand your logic, you have to remember: an idea like that poses a problem when you actively enslave people.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want a slave believing in that and trying to find their mate. Unless their mate just so happened to be another slave, it’s not likely that mate would want to enter a life of slavery. So, it would mean escape.”

“Yes. To a slave, their daily life – their entire life – revolves around the master’s whims and wants. There’s no place for a soul mate in that. It would overthrow the entire system.” Fenris shook his head. “Yet, it’s not that simple. The masses treat it like a parlor game, something to lackadaisically ponder about when they’re stuck inside on a rainy day. They would never admit to taking it very seriously, or truly believing.”

“…I sense a ‘but’, here.”

“ _But_ , that doesn’t stop many from communing with demons in the Fade, under the guise of trying to find their supposed mate. They’ll say they’re doing it for research. Or that finding their other ‘half’ is worth any price.” He sneered. “It’s just a convenient excuse for magisters and mages to gain more power. I lost count of how many of Danarius’ friends spoke about their little exploits, how they combed the Fade for a demon that could provide them with information about their ‘mate’. They laughed about it, like it was a little trip they took into the jungle or something. Nevermind that they gutted one of their slaves in order to do it.”

Relm grimaced. “Did Danarius…?”

Fenris snorted. “Surprisingly, no. He never bothered with it, at least not while I was in his service. He never openly discredited it, but he never seemed particularly interested, either.”

Relief swam through her. She suspected it would have been much worse if Danarius had. “I see.”

Silence resumed. Believing the conversation over, Relm returned to looking for a book.

“Is your father the reason you believe?”

Hawke froze, almost afraid to turn and look at him. She needed to think through her answer very carefully, so there was a long pause before she finally said, “Mostly, yes.”

“Do you not have your own supposed experiences with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“The man who killed your mother. He seemed to believe you were one of the dreamers, those who seem to think they have actual dreams about their ‘mate’ and their life.”

Lying was the only option here. The question was, what lie to pursue. Relm made a quick decision, going with the easier lie. “I’m not. I’m not sure why he thought that. Maybe he was… feeling whatever he felt in Anders or something.” She dared a glance over her shoulder.

As she feared, Fenris hardly looked convinced.

She shrugged, trying to pass it off like he was overreacting. “I honestly don’t even know how he could ‘feel’ something like that to begin with. He was insane. I mean, this is the man who thought that piecing together his mate from the body parts of different women would bring her back. Do you really want to put that much stock in what he said?”

“I… suppose you are right. And I shouldn’t have brought that up. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. It’s been well over a year.” While that night would always haunt her, she had to leave it in the past. “Going back to what you asked earlier: my father was a big part of it, yes. He never forced the belief on me, but from what he told me about it, it was hard not to believe.” She still knew all the stories by heart, especially the ones he told her about how he found Leandra, and their time together when they were young.

“You were young and impressionable.” Fenris crossed his arms. “They are fairy tales, and nothing more.”

Anger bubbled up in her. “Is it really so awful an idea?” The question left her before she could think it through, but she pushed forward. “Look, I don’t doubt that the magisters in Tevinter abused it for their own means, or that others don’t either. I’m not saying it’s perfect, or without its risks. But looking past all that, do you really find the idea so terrible?”

“Besides that it’s too good to be true?” His brow set into that stubborn furrow of his. “Entertaining the idea for a moment that it is, you are bound to one person. You have no say in the matter. Say you find this mate when you’ve already started a life, a family, with someone else?” His voice raised in pitch, disdain and anger leaking into his words as he continued, “Are you to drop everything you’ve created just because they’re your other half? Leave everything and anything behind for them? As far as I can tell, it’s just another kind of imprisonment.”

If it hadn’t been for Bodahn poking his head into the room in the very next moment, Relm wasn’t sure what she would have said or done. As it stood, as Bodahn apologized for interrupting, Relm’s arm shot out and braced itself against the bookcase, supporting her weight as her knees threatened to buckle.

“Please forgive my intrusion, but Master Varric just arrived.”

Bodahn ducked out, making room for Varric. The mentioned dwarf strolled on in, though he briefly paused when he saw Relm. He frowned for just a second, likely making a note to ask about that later, before his usual smile swept back into place. “I know it’s reading night, but this was too important to wait. Hawke, I think we found where those Carta people are coming from.”

Good news, for the first time all day. Relm’s fingers dug into the shelf as she straightened herself. “You did?”

“Yeah. See, I told one of my contacts about what happened to Junior-”

Fenris cut in, “Carver? What happened?”

“I guess Hawke didn’t tell you yet. Junior got attacked by the Carta, too, in Ansburg. Since he was in a Warden fortress, well, I’m sure you can figure out how well that went. But, it may have been a blessing in disguise.” Varric went on to explain how one of his contacts heard about a group going into Ansburg, and managed to backtrack to where they had come from. “Might take another week or two to narrow it down, but we’re pretty sure they’re in the mountains. They have to have some kind of base there. If it’s where we think it is, it’s not far from Kirkwall.”

“So… a lovely hike into the mountains it’ll be then,” Relm said.

“Sounds like it.” Varric sighed dramatically. “Why does it always have to be outside?”

Fenris got up from his seat. “Then perhaps I should leave so you two can discuss this.”

Normally Hawke would have insisted he stay, if nothing to not be rude. But right now, as awful as it felt, she needed him away from her. She was barely keeping her emotions in check as is, and her fingers began to ache from their grip on the shelf. “Might be for the best. We’ll try it again next week, barring that Varric’s contact pulls out another timely miracle and we’re on our upcoming expedition into the mountains by then.”

“Keep me informed as to what happens. I will gladly render assistance in this.”

Relm nodded and murmured her thanks.

Fenris grabbed his sword propped against the wall and strode towards the door, where Varric side-stepped to make room for him. But the elf paused just outside the threshold, and turned back for a moment to say, “To what we were discussing before… the idea has… a certain appeal. Knowing that you’ll always have someone, that you’re wanted and will not be abandoned certainly are favorable things. But given all that comes with it, I doubt it’s worth the price.” He sighed and turned back. “Good night, Hawke.”

Hawke and Varric waited until they heard the front door close. Relm sunk to her knees, finally relenting her hold on the bookshelf.

Varric immediately went to her side, sitting down next to her. “Okay, if I read this right, maybe asking Fenris his thoughts on the matter wasn’t the best idea.”

She tried to say something, but the words felt clogged in her throat. She brought her knees up, burying her face against them and fighting against an onslaught of tears.

“Bodahn!” Varric called out. “Can you bring us a flask of wine and some glasses?” Then more quietly, “I think we’ll be here for a bit.”

A sob tore out of Relm.

“…make that two flasks, Bodan!” The dwarf sighed, settling in. “All right. What exactly did he say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have guessed by now, we're heading into the Legacy DLC! Expect Carver, crazy dwarves, darkspawn, and more in the next chapter. 
> 
> That being said, just before anyone asks: while I am doing Legacy, I will NOT be doing any chapters about Mark of the Assassin. I love the DLC, but I couldn't find a way to make it reasonably fit into the story in a meaningful way, and this fic is already getting a little longer than I anticipated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! See you all next chapter~


	28. Into the Carta Hideout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having located the Carta's hideout, Relm and the gang head into the Vimmark Mountains to find out what's going on, joined by Carver Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the Legacy DLC. And we get to see Carver again! Thanks everyone for reading, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Varric’s contact came through. After further investigating, they pinpointed where the Carta were coming from. Yet, the reports were odd. From what they could tell, their hideout was a place that, by all accounts, shouldn’t exist. A blank spot on the map, as Varric described it. And it was big; his contact seemed certain that there were plenty more Carta waiting inside, doing… something. They couldn’t get close enough to know for sure.

A large place to break into meant a larger party, especially with their knowledge of the place limited, at best. After a very long discussion at the Hanged Man, Relm’s friends all volunteered to go. But it wouldn’t just be her and the usual merry band going.

“ _Junior’s_ coming?”

“He said as much,” Relm answered, smiling at Varric’s incredulity. “The Wardens were concerned about future attacks, and if this affected us both, then he should be along to sort things out. He’ll meet us at the location. It’ll delay our trip there, but I think it’s worth it.” A part of her desperately missed her brother. “It’ll be a little reunion over killing Carta.”

“Fitting, I think,” Aveline dryly remarked, “for your family.”

Relm stuck her tongue out at her.

 

* * *

 

As shitty was the situation was, Relm, quite frankly, was looking forward to it. Getting to the bottom of this mystery would help, and she would get to see Carver while doing it. _Sad that this is a high point of my life right now_ , she thought as they climbed down the path that, if Varric’s source was correct, would lead to the Carta base. _But then again, given how much things have gone downhill, I’ll take what I can get._

She and her friends descended down the path, with more than a few complaints being uttered about tripping over rocks and being outside (the latter mostly came from Varric). At the bottom near an overlook stood a man in Grey Warden armor, watching the path stretched out in front of him carefully. He turned as the party neared, cocking an eyebrow.

Relm grinned when she spotted him. “You could at least pretend to look happy to see us.”

Carver snorted. “I was waiting until you were close before I jumped for joy.”

“Well, let the jumping commence.” Relm walked up next to him, surveying the area stretched out before them. The Vimmark Mountains laid before them, with what appeared to be ruins or a very old fortress nestled within the chasm. It was unusually quiet; no wind blew, or animal cried out.

A shiver went down Relm’s spine.

“There it is,” Varric said. “That’s where the Carta should be. I still don’t know why they’d attack you, though. They’re not usually stupid.”

“They gave it their best shot,” Carver said. “I can’t believe they snuck into the Warden keep at Ansburg.”

“They failed, thankfully.” Relm hardly knew what she would have done if something had happened to Carver. “And luckily, they haven’t been able to kill me yet, either.”

“So you have a plan, then?” Varric asked. “I found their hideout, but my sources couldn’t find out anything else. It’s all very… strange.”

“Does it matter? We just need them to stop trying to kill us,” Carver cut in.

“A fine point. So,” Varric looked at Hawke expectantly. “what’s the plan?”

Relm felt relaxed enough to joke, “Oh, I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Later we’ll all have tea and laugh over it.”

“Oh, your name is _Hawke._ I thought it was _Locke_ ,” Varric cracked back with a chuckle.

Even Carver chimed in with, “Oh yes, we were looking for some other combination of general and ringmaster.”

Relm and Varric shot him dual looks, their expressions judging him for his bad humor.

Aveline cleared her throat. “If we’re done, we best get in there. Let’s sort out this business and get back home. It’ll be nice not to have to keep watching Hawke’s back for Carta all the time.”

As the group, led by Relm and Carver, began to move down the path that led into the hideout, Relm rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask for the guard detail, Aveline. This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to kill me.”

“But it _is_ the first time someone’s tried to do it repeatedly and consistently,” the guard-captain countered from the back of the line. “Yes, you tick off thugs and criminals all the time, but the Carta’s organized. And they’ve been persistent. That warrants more caution.”

“Someone’s as smothering as ever,” Carver muttered.

“Some things never change,” Relm murmured.

Up head, a dwarf came through the entrance to the hideout. His eyes were clouded over, appearing almost otherworldly. He threw out his arms and exclaimed, “You! Both the brother and sister are here together! You’ve come!”

Carver leaned in towards his sister. “Is he referring to you and me?”

“Don’t see any other brother and sister pairs here…”

Carver glared at her.

“Everyone!” the dwarf shouted. “The children of Malcolm Hawke have come!” More dwarves appeared, seemingly coming from thin air behind the rocks and walls that towered above them.

Carver and Relm lifted their heads in surprise at the mention of their father’s name. “What does my father have to do with this?” Relm demanded.

“It began with him, and ends with you! Blood for blood, that’s what we were told.”

The statement unnerved them both. Even Carver couldn’t quite keep the worry out of his voice as he said, “Did… Father cross the Carta somehow?”

Relm hardly knew. She remembered their father as a man who kept his head low. She had a hard time imagining him angering the Carta. “We couldn’t refuse such a _delightfully_ worded invitation,” she said to the dwarf, beginning to reach for her staff. If the last encounter she had with the Carta was any indication, this was going to end in a fight.

“We must have the blood, you don’t understand.” The dwarf began to back up as other dwarves began stalking towards them, weapons in hands. “We must take the blood. Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!”

“So much for conversation,” Relm muttered before she drew out her staff. Carver and the others already had their weapons in hand. The warriors surged forward, and the battle began.

Not that it was much of a battle. With so many on her side, it hardly took long before the assaulting dwarves fell.

“It’s going to be that kind of day, I see,” Anders said as he finished healing up a gash along Sebastian’s arm. “Good thing we brought along a lot of supplies.”

“And that all of us came along,” Merrill said to Hawke. “And Carver’s here, too! It’s just like old times. Well, sort of. Not so many Carta dwarves back then I don’t think.”

As Hawke smiled a little, she looked around, doing a count and making sure everyone was relatively unharmed. When she got to Fenris, she noticed him struggling to tie the favor around his wrist, likely having gotten dislodged in the battle. She almost offered to help, but refrained. She didn’t want to make it awkward.

“Wearing ribbons now?” Carver remarked, having noticed it as well. “Next it’ll be flowers in your hair?”

“It isn’t a ribbon,” Fenris snapped as he finally managed to tie it. “Leave it be.”

“Touchy as ever.”

Before Carver could dig himself further into his grave, Relm stepped over and jerked him away, ignoring his protests. “Let’s keep moving, shall we? I’d like to know what’s going on.”

 

* * *

 

They further they went in, the more Carta they found. More mentioned Malcolm’s name, but gave no indication as to how he was tied to all of this. The fortress seemed to stretch on endlessly, long enough that they all needed to stop for a break after awhile. They found a series of barracks and buildings that the Carta had occupied. It provided relief from the sun and a place to sit and eat.

Carver volunteered to pop outside and make sure more Carta weren’t waiting for them. As he headed outside, Relm set aside her things and went after him, throwing out the excuse that he shouldn’t go out alone.

Both siblings kept quiet until they were well away from the others and out of earshot.

“So, what was that about? Earlier?” Carver asked.

Relm sighed. “That’s not a ribbon he’s wearing. It’s… a favor. From me.”

Carver stopped in his steps. “I thought things ended between you two.”

“They did.”

“And he’s wearing a favor you gave-” His brow lifted. “Wait. Now that I’m thinking about it, that old thing looks familiar.”

“It was Father’s. Or, it was the favor Mother gave to him. I guess she had held onto it. About two years ago, she gave it to me to give to someone.” Relm shrugged weakly. “No surprises about who I was going to pick.”

Carver crossed his arms. He looked annoyed, not that that was anything terribly out of character. But something in his eyes – a hardness Relm never saw before – unnerved her. “He broke your heart, left you, and yet he’s wearing your favor – _Mother’s_ favor, and one of the few things we have left of her or Father – on his wrist like nothing happened?”

“He’s not acting like nothing happened. But, okay, yes. It’s strange. I don’t know why he wears it.”

“You never asked?”

“No,” she bit out. “I never asked. Things are strained enough. I’m not risking a further rift.”

“That have anything to do with the bags under your eyes?”

Relm pressed her lips together tightly.

“Answers my question, I guess. So, you’re just going to keep on with your life like nothing’s wrong?”

“It is what it is, Carver. And before you say it, no, I’m not telling him. He’s made it _very_ clear what his thoughts on the matter are. Driving him away will only worsen things.” Her throat tightened when she thought about that conversation. “He’s my friend and he’s in my life. It’s enough.”

Carver looked away. “Why does it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, then?”

She hated even considering that he might be right, but it was the truth. Each day, it grew harder to justify keeping this distance between her and Fenris. Logic told her it wouldn’t end well if she tried to bridge it by telling him the truth, but her soul grew more tired each time she told herself that. Everything in her _ached_ anymore. Sometimes it was hard to remember what it was like, back when she was happy.

Aveline’s voice drifted from behind them, “You two see anything? If not, we should get moving again.”

Relm pushed her hair out of her face, turning on her heel. “No, we haven’t,” she called back.

Carver adjusted his sword on his back. “Back into the fray, then. This trail of Carta has to lead somewhere.”

Said trail led further into the depths of the fortress. Scraps of notes that Relm found indicated that it was more than a fortress. _Something_ was locked away here, something that the dwarves didn’t want found. More disturbing, they also uncovered evidence of the Wardens being there at some point.

“Taint, taint, and more taint.” Anders sighed. “It gets so old after a while.” He suddenly grimaced, rubbing at his head.

“Are you all right?” Relm asked.

“Mm, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache coming on.”

They kept pushing forward, Relm thinking nothing more of Anders’ headache. Aside from coming across more Carta, nothing particularly intriguing happened for some time.

Isabela, clearly bored by the lack of anything fun going on, leaned over to check out Carver. Brow raised appreciatively, she said, “You've certainly...filled out, Carver. Shame, really: I hear joining the Wardens separates the men from their ‘boys.’”

Relm expected Carver to stutter and stumble, like he used to. She smiled in anticipation.

Instead, Carver smirked and said, “We rarely have children, true. But don't worry, that just means I try ever so much harder.”

Isabela grinned. “Ooh, I like you all grown up.”

Relm’s mouth dropped as Varric laughed. “Junior took down the Rivaini? Who's telling this story?”

“I don’t want to hear another word of it!” Relm said, horrifying mental images playing across her mind. “Not one! No hints of my brother caboodling _anyone_ , let alone Isabela!”

“Sister, I have to break it to you-”

“ _No you don’t, not a word._ ”

There were competing choruses of laughter and groans. Carver was far too pleased with himself, as far as Relm could tell. She had half a mind to tell him to wipe the stupid grin off of his face. Instead, she turned to Fenris and said, “If I pay you a sovereign, can you plunge your hand into my head and see if that’ll wipe away the awful images that keep playing in my mind? Please?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to do it to _myself_.”

“Oh, please,” Carver said with a roll of his eyes as he walked around the corner ahead, “like I-” He paused suddenly, reaching for his sword. “We have company.”

As the rest of the group rounded the corner, they came face to face with another large contingent of Carta dwarves. One of them was rubbing down a bronto when he noticed them. “Hawke,” he said, turning to walk towards them. “They told me you were going to be trouble. And you brought the whole family; how _generous_ of you.”

Relm swung out her staff, the others following suit.

“I swore to Corypheus I would bring him Malcolm Hawke’s blood, one way or another.”

“What does my father have to do with this?” Relm snapped, tired of having to keep asking.

“What Corypheus wants, Corypheus gets. He wants the blood of Hawke. I don’t ask questions.”

In a fit of frustration, Relm yelled and swung out her arm, firing a burst of lightning at him. The dwarf shouted at his men to attack.

It was a hard battle. The dwarves were at their strongest and most numerous here. The bronto charging around worsened matters. By the time the leader fell, Hawke and the others were winded, sporting more than a few injuries.

Anders flitted back and forth amongst them, tending to the worst of the wounds while those who were less banged up began looting. Relm walked up to the corpse of the Carta leader, frowning as she noticed something glowing under him. She rolled his body over with her foot. The light shone brighter as his chest became exposed. Kneeling down, she examined it.

It appeared to be a rod of some sort. Relm grabbed it, eyes widening as it stretched out, forming into a staff before her eyes. “What the…?”

Suddenly, magic poured out from the staff and shot through her. She yelled as her vision went white. Her blood seemed to roar in her veins, filling her ears with the noise. “What is this? I can… feel it inside me.” Her mana surged, and for a moment, she thought she was going to lose control.

But as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Everything returned to normal as Relm fell to her knees, gripping the staff hard as she panted. The others had gathered around her, with Anders crouching down next to her. “Let me take a look. Are you feeling all right?”

As he looked over her, Carver said, “That was a complex enchantment. If what we’re hearing is true… what did Father know?”

_Nothing that he told me about, for better or worse._ Given the okay by Anders, Relm got to her feet. “I think… this is going to take me to Corypheus. Somehow I can feel it.”

“The further we go in,” Aveline said, “the more nervous I become. But we need to deal with this Corypheus, for both your sakes.” She glanced down a corridor that led down into the fortress. “Let’s just hope he’s not too far inside.”

 

* * *

 

A long flight of stairs led them below ground. As they rounded a corner, they spotted Carta dwarves running from them. Relm signaled for everyone to chase after them. But as they got off the stairs, a burst of magic followed them. When they turned around to see what happened, they found themselves on the other side of a magic seal.

“Those sons of bitches!” Varric cursed. “That seal’s trapped us down here.”

“Merrill, Anders, with me.” Hawke approached the seal, not ready to give up. She pressed her hand against it, testing it. “Okay. We need to try and break this, if we can.”

The elf looked over at her uneasily. “Hawke, even with blood magic, I don’t think that’ll-”

Relm began summoning magic into her hands. “On the count of three. One…”

Anders and Merrill exchanged looks, resigning themselves before they followed suit.

“Two… three!”

All three mages fired the strongest counterspell they had, but the seal held. The force of the magic colliding knocked all of them back. Anders stumbled into Sebastian and Aveline, and Merrill skirted across the ground until Isabela caught her.

Relm flew until she collided against a metal plated chest. Arms covered in gauntlets caught her and held her close as she righted herself. She looked up, and offered Fenris a smile. “Thank you. That was, ah, not one of my better plans.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he said as he let her go. “But, no, not your best idea. We’ll have to find another way out of here.”

Carver suddenly beckoned to everyone to keep quiet. He aimed a sharp look at Anders. “Do you feel that?”

Anders, having just gotten to his feet, frowned for a moment. “What-” Sharp snarls echoed in the distance. His head snapped up, clearly alarmed. “Darkspawn. Damn. As if things aren’t bad enough.”

“Everyone, on your toes,” Relm said. “I have a feeling we’re going to be missing the Carta in due time.”

The chatter quieted down as they slowly made their way in. It didn’t take long before they came across the first swarm of darkspawn, likely having heard the earlier commotion.

“Ugh. I forgot how much they stink,” Relm complained, wiping darkspawn blood off of her staff after the battle finished. While trying not to sniff in the smell, she noticed a jail cell further down the hall. Even from a distance, she could see a magic seal was placed over the front. She walked towards it, though she approached it warily. Nothing good usually laid in wait on the other side.

Suddenly, a deep voice boomed from seemingly nowhere. “ _Be bound here for eternity: hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be._ ”

Relm whipped her head around, and immediately her eyes met Carver’s gaze. He wore the same startled expression as her. “You heard it, too?” she asked. “It sounded just like…”

_That was Father’s voice._


	29. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warden prison - and those with Relm - force her to start confronting some uncomfortable truths.

Relm wanted to hear that voice again. Without regard to the consequences, she shattered the seal with magic. Behind where the seal was stood a powerful shade. It screeched as it lunged at Relm.

She countered with a burst of ice, knocking the creature back. Backpedaling, she swung out her staff and began hurling magic at it. The Veil was thin enough that the demon summoned some of its friends to help. They occupied _her_ friends, who scattered to deal with the wave of enemies.

For a less seasoned bunch, they might have posed a huge problem. But for Relm and company, the demons fell in due time. As they did, the disembodied voice from before rang out, “ _I can do nothing about the Wardens’ use of demons in this horrid place. But I will have no one say any magic of mine brought them into the world_.”

The room fell silent, uneasiness settling over them all when no obvious speaker presented itself. Carver finally broke the silence with, “That’s definitely his voice.” He looked straight at Relm. “But how?”

“Whose voice?” Aveline asked.

“Our father’s.” Relm looked around, still wondering where it had come from. “This must have something to do with the Carta and this Corypheus wanting his blood. Which, speaking of, I'd really like to know who this ‘Corypheus’ is. With a name like that, I know he's bound to go ‘mwahaha’ at some point.” She scrunched her nose. “I mean, really? More blood? Why can't it ever be spit or a lock of hair?”

Varric cocked a brow at her. “You really want to encounter a spit mage?”

“For variety, sure.”

Carver looked just as incredulous as Varric as he said, “You worry me, you know that?”

“She worries many of us.” Fenris added with a murmur, “For many reasons.”

Relm huffed and began to walk. “I just want something _different_ mucking up my life for once. Is that so much to ask?”

 

* * *

 

She more or less got her wish just a few minutes later when the party came across a disheveled man wearing Grey Warden armor. Despite his haggard appearance, he provided them with essential information.

The staff Relm received was a key, one that would lead them to Corypheus. It had the power to lift the seals that held him within the prison. Freeing Corypheus hardly enticed them, but he insisted it was the only way out. “Anything comes in, nothing leaves,” he said, his voice scratchy like parchment rubbed over rock. “The only way out is down. Down, into the depths. Down and in. Down and in.”

The conversation hardly left Relm feeling great about their prospects. Yet, she hardly could argue his claims. So she shrugged and followed him into the center structure ahead of them. It was a tall tower of some kind, which ran all the way down to the bottom of the prison, an endless chasm of darkness that stretched endlessly below them.

In the middle of the room stood a raised stone circle, surrounded by four small pillars brimming with magic. Slowly she walked into the center, the key-staff in hand. As Larius instructed her, she touched it to the center, allowing the staff to reabsorb the magic. Her blood pulsed thunderously in her veins for a moment as the magic poured back into the staff. She gritted her teeth against the onslaught, her mana flaring in protest. A rune flashed below her feet before disappearing, the pillars empty.

A magic seal on the far side of the room vanished, opening the way for Hawke and her party.

“The blood works,” Larius said, hobbling into the room. “Good.”

Despite his very questionable sanity, Relm had to concede that he had been right. “Thank you for helping me, but who are you? What’s your name?”

“Name.” His brow furrowed. “It’s been so long since I’ve said my name. La… Larius! I was Larius.”

“And you were a Warden, like me,” Carver said, seemingly understanding something. “Then you’ve had your Calling.”

“Yes. The songs get louder. Only death can stop them.” Larius looked at them forlornly. “I am dead, but I never died.”

Relm knew what they meant. Not wanting to think about her brother’s eventual death, she forced a subject change. “What do these seals have to do with my blood?”

Larius explained, “The magic, it calls to the blood, reads the thoughts of those who hold it. The last to hold it, the Hawke.” His eyes, clouded over by taint, became distant as he remembered. “I… I was there when he laid the seals. Before I became this.”

Before Relm could press for details, Larius turned, eyes wide. “Corypheus calls in the darkness. What waits there?” Without further word, he hobbled off, down the path before them.

Carver inhaled deeply. “Father laid these seals. Larius said that the magic calls to blood. Does that mean…?”

“No.” Relm shouldered her staff, grim-faced as she moved after Larius. She was not going to consider what he was implying.

 

* * *

 

More darkspawn awaited them as they trudged down into the prison. They dispatched them with the usual amount of caution, careful to not allow darkspawn blood to get into their orifices or any open wounds.

Anders asked Relm for help in healing the rest of the party, claiming a headache was slowing him. As she moved around, she noticed Sebastian sporting a nasty gash on his shoulder. She beckoned him over, holding her hands over the wound as she poured healing magic into it.

“Ah, thank you,” he murmured. “I didn’t watch my flank as carefully as I should have.” He lifted his head, taking in the room as she worked. Suddenly he frowned worriedly. “When you’re done, perhaps check on Fenris. He seems to be limping.”

Relm glanced over. Fenris walked stiffly to a far wall, muscles tense as he leaned against it.

“Fenris?” Relm called out. “Are you all right? I’ll be right over.”

“I’m fine.” He kept looking at the ground. “It’s nothing you can help with.”

“Ah.” Sebastian grimaced. “Your markings again? They’ve been bothering you quite a bit lately.”

Fenris’ ears flushed red as he shot an annoyed glare at his friend. “I would have appreciated you not announcing that to the entire room.”

Varric, making adjustments to Bianca, looked up and scoffed. “Elf, it’s not like your markings haven’t bothered you before.”

“But they have been worse lately,” Sebastian added, ignoring Fenris’ deepening frown. “And he’s been refusing any help.”

“And calling out on it in front of everyone is helping _how_?”

Sebastian’s rebuke was cut off when, from the other side of the room, Anders cried out. His head was in his hands, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m not listening.” His fingers dug into his scalp. “I’m not listening!”

Carver, to Relm’s surprise, approached Anders, bending down to try and get him to look at him. “Anders?”

The mage said nothing.

“Anders!” he tried again.

Anders still didn’t respond. His eyes kept shut, as he muttered to himself.

“Maker, it’s like he doesn’t even hear me.”

Isabela stepped in, putting her hand on Anders’ shoulder. “Easy. Hold it together. Deep breaths.”

“The abomination’s hearing voices,” Fenris cut in, unsympathetic as he watched on. “How unexpected.”

That earned him a sharp glare from Relm. “I know you’re in pain, but stuff the sarcasm. He was a Warden. This place may be affecting him.”

Aveline took Anders’ elbow, dragging him to his feet. “Less arguing and more moving,” Aveline urged the rest of the group. “The sooner we get through this, the better.”

 

* * *

 

Further inside, as more darkspawn blocked their path and were summarily cleared out, they came across another prison. Over it was the same seal Relm broke earlier that prompted Malcolm’s voice. She knew it was dangerous, letting what was probably another demon loose, but she wanted to hear him again. It’d been so long since she last heard her father’s voice. Even if it was just an echo of the past, it was better than nothing.

As she broke the seal, she knew to fall back before the abomination on the other side could swipe at her. More demons came, and they were promptly killed.  

As she hoped, when the last demon fell, Malcolm’s voice boomed out from the air around them, “ _I may have left the Circle, but I took a vow: my magic will serve what is best in me, not that which is most base._ ”

“’That which is best in me’. Father used to say that, didn’t he?” Carver trained his gaze on the ceiling, as if he could find where his father’s voice came from. “To you and Bethany during your lessons.” He glanced over at his sister. “She never felt like she could live up to him. No matter how hard she tried, I think she felt like she would inevitably disappoint him.”

“He would have been proud of her,” Relm said. “I hope they’re together now, with Mother. Gossiping about us.” She could only imagine what they were saying about her lately.

Anders let out a choked moan. Relm turned and found him sagging heavily against a wall, hands still clutching his head.

_Shit._ “We’ve been going for awhile. Let’s stop and rest here for a bit.”

She walked over to Anders as the others began setting their things down. She put a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to take a seat with her. “Anders?”

“He – the voice. It won’t get out of my head.”

Relm wrapped her hands around his and squeezed gently. “Would talking about something else help?”

“Maybe.” Anders furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate. “I, um… I talked to Myrella before we left for here. I heard about what happened.”

“I’m sure she painted me in a less than flattering light.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t entirely agree with her.”

She frowned. “Entirely?”

Anders lowered his voice. “I agree that we need to do _something._ But I don’t know if Tevinter is the answer. Honestly, Hawke, I doubt she’ll get far with that. If we had more of a presence in the south, maybe the magisters would consider helping. But we’re a rag-tag group at best. And I’d rather we look to our own people for help, rather than invite our feuding cousins.” He sighed. “Maybe she’ll come to her senses and apologize.”

“You and the others are welcome to my basement still if you need to hide in the meantime,” Relm offered. “I don’t want to abandon you. I just can’t work with Myrella if she’s going to do this.”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Hawke, but I hope you at least understand where she’s coming from. Things aren’t going well. Every day, we receive news of another raid, or another couple forced into hiding… or worse. And we’re losing ground.” He shook his head. “She’s desperate to find another solution. And she’s the only one who can manage that group. They listen to her, and she inspires them. If we lose her… I don’t even want to consider it.”

“And I get that, but we can’t sacrifice our morals to do it. What the magisters do to their slaves is just as bad as what the templars do to the Circle mages. She wants to fight one evil by enlisting the help of another.”

Anders lifted his gaze. “You’re not wrong. But morals aren’t going to change things, either. At some point, we have to do what’s necessary for the greater good.”

For a moment, her eyes widened in shock and an argument bubbled in her throat. But she didn’t want to start one here. So she merely nodded before standing up. “I’m going to see if they need help with cooking food. I’ll bring something over to you then, okay? Just get some rest.”

She joined the others, helping start a fire for dinner. From the corner of her eye, she caught Fenris’ stare boring into her. She glanced over, but he looked away as soon as she did. Her heart slammed into her chest. _Maker, he didn’t overhear any of that, did he?_

Ever since stepping foot in that place, Relm’s mind had been occupied with quite a bit: finding an exit, her father’s lingering words, and Anders’ deteriorating condition. Despite all of it, at least her thoughts hadn’t been caught up in Fenris, which was a welcome change.

But her thoughts turned back to him now as she tried to decipher that look. Aside from her earlier scolding, she’d given him no reason to look so on edge.

_I’m missing something here._

 

* * *

 

The prison felt like an endless series of hallways, darkspawn, and questionable Warden interior decorating. Deep underground, they had no idea what time it was, but Relm knew it had to be getting late, given how tired she felt. Everyone seemed more sluggish as well.

Hawke kept looking over at Fenris, searching for an explanation for his sudden anxiety. He kept his distance and pointedly did not look at her. He was still limping slightly, too. She wondered why his markings could be getting worse, if that was truly the case.

_I hope there’s not some kind of treatment he’s supposed to do for them. But surely he’d have remembered that from his time with Danarius? I can’t remember them doing anything specifically with his markings, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t_ something _they did to… I don’t know, maintain them?_ She shook her head. _What am I even going on about?_

“Sister.”

Relm stopped. Carver pointed to another prison, the same as the ones before. “Might as well see what happens, right?”

“Oh good, more demons,” Varric muttered as Hawke approached the seal. She broke it, backpedaling away as soon as it fell.

This time they were greeted with a desire demon, who summoned a mixed group of undead skeletons and profane golems. Relm’s body protested during the fight, between the usual pain she was in and the added weight of exhaustion.

As the fight wound down and the last enemy fell, Relm nursed her elbow, which had taken a hit from a rampaging profane. Looking at her wound to treat it, she failed to notice the swirl of blue smoke that materialized in the air. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight when she finally did. Two bright orbs hung in the smoke, resembling eyes with a piercing gaze.

From the smoke, Malcolm’s voice rung out, “ _I’ve bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now. I know it’s been hard, but I don’t regret a moment. You are my other half, and I’ve never felt so complete. I’ll always be grateful that I found you. There’s so much I can never tell you, but it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together, us and the baby. I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one. May they never learn what I’ve done here._ ” His voice faded, and the smoke disappeared.

Carver had moved to stand next to Relm at some point. His expression turned thoughtful as he looked at his sister. “Father didn’t want a child with magic? He got that one wrong twice over.” He shifted uneasily. “He sure didn’t show it back home. The attention he gave you and Bethany… well, I guess the worst he figured that’d happen to me was tripping on my sword.”

“You did trip on your sword. A lot.”

Carver scoffed, smirking at her. “My weapon’s not a walking stick. And strapping on a helmet the first time was like walking with a water barrel attached to my head. Just as dangerous as your demons. Sort of.” He chewed on the side of his mouth, his smile fading. “I did worry about you two, sometimes. Bethany just wanted to be normal.” He snorted derisively. “As if I made a good case for it.”

Relm raised a brow. “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused you of that, Carver.”

“All right, I guess I deserved that one.” He chuckled. It surprised Relm to see him poke fun at himself. He used to take the jokes about him so personally. She never thought being a Warden would help a person lighten up, but clearly she had been wrong.

Suddenly, Carver turned towards the others. “I need to talk to Relm alone for a moment.”

“Just don’t take too long,” Aveline cautioned. “With how many darkspawn are about, it’s not safe to be alone. But we’ll go ahead and see if we can find a place to rest for the night. Assuming it’s nighttime, anyway.”

“With how tired I feel, I’d bet so,” Varric said, nodding to the Hawke siblings as the group left the room.

Alone, Carver heaved out a sigh. “I miss Father and Bethany. And Mother.” He sigh. “Even you, sometimes. But as far as we get, they’re still gone. I’m tired of losing things.”

“We still have each other.” Relm shrugged. “Not that we get to see each other much, but we’re still alive. And so’s Uncle Gamlen.”

“He can suck an egg,” Carver muttered. “And yeah, we’re alive. But I’m slowly dying, and you’re coming apart at the seams.”

“What-”

“Hearing Father talk about Mother like that, about not telling her they were soul mates, it sounded just like you. But he got to be with her. You don’t even have that, and it’s taking its toll on you.” He gestured to her. “You got bags under your eyes, you’ve lost weight, having aches and pains all the time…” Sensing her argument, he crossed his arms and added, “I’ve noticed how much you’ve slowed down in battle. You walk a bit different, like you’ve always got something in your boot. And this is just what I’ve seen. I know it’s worse than that.”

_How does he…?_ She told him nothing of this in their few letter exchanges. Then it hit her. “Varric. He told you what’s been going on.”

“Yes. He’s worried, and he hoped I could help.”

“I don’t see how.”

“By trying to talk some sense into your thick skull,” Carver grounded out between his teeth.

“I know you’re concerned, and I appreciate it, but please, let’s not discuss this here. We’ve got other things to worry about.”

Carver sighed through his nose, jaw clenched. “And they say _I’m_ the stubborn one.”

“It’s a Hawke trait.”

He shook his head, starting to move past her to follow the others.

“…she knew.”

Carver stopped, looking back at Relm. “What?”

“Mother knew, about them being mates. When she was… I told her. And she said she knew. I don’t know for how long, but somewhere along the way, she realized it.” If only she had told her sooner, then maybe she could have learned more. The answers were forever out of her reach now, burned away along with Leandra’s body. “I never would have guessed, not with how she acted about the whole thing.”

“Is that what you’re hoping, that he’ll figure it out himself? Spare you from having to tell him?”

Relm rubbed her sore elbow. “A girl can dream.”

“And a girl can waste away while it never happens. He’s as stubborn as you. Fitting, all things considered. But Relm, he’s never going to unless you do something. You can’t run from this forever.”

She really wished she could argue otherwise.

 

* * *

 

Relm hardly slept that night. The environment and her vicinity to Fenris worsened her usual insomnia. She had to lay on her arms and convince herself to not move closer to him. The aches and pains that usually wracked her grew twofold, to the point she had to bite her lower lip to stifle her cries.

In the middle of the night (or what she assumed was around that time), she noticed Fenris shifting in his bedroll. He lifted his head, then set it down and sighed.

_I wonder if it’s his markings bothering him?_ She so badly wanted to reach out to him, but she knew she couldn’t. He’d been distant since yesterday, with no plausible explanation as to why.

_Damn it, what did I do?_ No answers yielded themselves, and by morning, Relm was too tired to think on it more.

Luckily, they weren’t far from the second seal. When they reached it, Relm did the same as she did with the first seal, reabsorbing the magic and lifting the small barrier on the far side of the room.

Like stepping out from thin air, Larius appeared. “He is waking. He feels the magic grow lax!”

“Are you talking about Corypheus?”

“He calls. Like an Old God. He mimics their cry. It calls them to free him. The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood.” He explained that Corypheus was something between a darkspawn and a human. Carver supplied that he sounded like an awakened darkspawn, one that was intelligent and capable of speech.  

Whatever Corypheus was, he needed to be killed. Relm knew that much.

Suddenly Larius grimaced. “The voice is too strong here.” He turned and began limping away. “I cannot stay!”

Before Relm could ask, she heard a thud behind her.

Anders had collapsed again. He curled up and shoved his head between his knees, hands beating against his skull. “Stop!” he screamed. “Just make him stop talking! Make him stop!

Carver frowned deeply. “It's Corypheus. He can hear Corypheus.” He shook his head. “I’m not hearing it like he is, but whatever the reason, this isn’t good.”

**“** He'll kill us all if he allows his insanity to take him!” Fenris snapped.

Relm all but snarled at him as she hurried over to Anders. “That’s not helping, Fenris!” She took Anders’ arm and looped it over her shoulders. “Let’s get him out of here.”

 

* * *

 

The now unsealed path led them a long ways down into the bowels of the earth. The fortress gave way to complete ruins, far older than the structure above. Ancient statues leered at them as they trekked across the desolate landscape. Nothing grew there.

Anders seemed to have gotten a little better, enough to stand on his own, but no one was convinced that the worst had passed.

Relm kept her eyes ahead, watching for darkspawn and the path forward. Where it was once clear where they needed to go, now they faced a maze. She saw a large structure in the distance, which she hoped was the location of the next seal, but getting there seemed impossible. Pools of some kind of boiling liquid and collapsed ruins blocked their path everywhere they went.

All the while, anger churned in her gut. Frustration fueled it in part, along with worry, but most of it was directed at Fenris. His continued distance from her now reached the point of irritation, coupled with her annoyance from his earlier comments. She knew he didn’t like Anders, but his words were uncalled for. What was surprising, though, was how cathartic the anger felt. It beat being lovesick over him, and it dulled the chronic pain she was always in.

“This way’s no good, either,” she declared a few hours later, climbing down from the perch she had taken atop a rocky outcrop. “Let’s try going west.”

“We’ve run into nothing but dead ends and cesspools for hours now,” Fenris remarked, scowling deeply at the landscape.

“Gee, you’re right, I guess we should go back.” Relm snorted. “Oh wait, we _can’t_.”

He aimed a hard stare at her. “I wasn’t suggesting we give up. But this clearly isn’t working.”

“Which is why I suggested going in a different direction.”

“Which will likely yield the same obstacles.”

“Then what do you _suggest_ we-”

Quietly, Merrill piped up, “Hawke, Fenris, we-”

They both spun on her, simultaneously snapping, “ _What_?”

She puffed out her cheeks a bit, refusing to be deterred. “It’s Anders.” She pointed to the other mage. Anders was curled up on the ground again, having another episode.

“So his insanity progresses,” Fenris said.

“ _Shove it,_ ” Relm shot back at him as she strode over towards her friend. She knelt in front of him. “Anders? Come on, talk to me.”

But something was different. His voice took a different cadence, his gaze distant as he said, “I… it won’t stop. I can’t… the voice… Wardens… the Joining. I have too much taint in my blood. I can’t shut him out.”

“Yes you can. Come on, Anders!”

He began violently whipping his head back and forth, as if trying to shake someone off of him. “No! I will not-”

His body flashed blue, cracks appearing along his skin as they filled with light. Justice’s voice rang out as he finished, “- **be controlled**.”

_Oh shit._ Relm scrambled backwards as Anders got to his feet. Controlled by Justice, he roared in rage, magic furling around his hands.

Justice made for a formidable opponent, but he was no match for all the others combined. Hoping to avoid a battle, Relm hurled a Stone Fist at him to knock him down. Unfortunately, Merrill had the same idea, and the poor man was hit with two within quick succession. Still barely on his feet despite the hits, he fired a burst of flame in retaliation, nearly singeing Relm and a few others. He began to move his hands in a pattern, over and over, until the air around them began to darken.

“I think he’s whipping up something big!” Varric said. “Don’t want to shoot him, but-”

Without warning, Aveline charged, undeterred by the growing tempest above them. With Anders stuck spellcasting, she had no trouble smacking him upside the head with her shield.

There was a collective grimace as Anders went down, doubling over. The knock to his head did the trick; the cracks faded, and Anders resumed control. “Ow,” he muttered.

“Feeling better?” Relm asked.

He lifted his head, glowering at her. “Sure, besides getting pummeled.” His gaze flitted to her left, and his frown deepened. “Don’t even say it. If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have come here.”

Relm knew without looking whom he was talking to.

Fenris shook his head. “How are we to know this won’t happen again? And next time, we might not be so fortunate to subdue you quickly.”

Temper flaring, Relm shot the elf a scathing glare. “We didn’t know this would happen. What else are we going to do? Leave him behind?”

“We have enough danger around us without him adding to it.”

“You-” Relm seethed. “Maker’s fucking breath, Fenris. _What_ is your problem? Are you upset about being here? I’m sorry, all right? I had no idea it would turn out like this!”

He turned away from her. Dismissing her. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t ‘it’s nothing’ me, you ass. You’ve been glaring daggers at me since yesterday!”

Barely constrained rage rolled off of Fenris. Relm could feel it, even several feet away. “Do not push this issue now, Hawke.”

Relm had never liked confrontation. She grew up learning to swallow her feelings and keep a straight face. Had she been in a better place mentally, she would have backed off and let cooler heads prevail. But at that moment, her emotions won out. “I will damn well push it. I want to know what I’ve done to suddenly earn your ill-concealed ire.”

Like an animal cornered, Fenris rounded on her, fists bunched at his side. “My issue does not concern being here. No, I’m not happy about it, but I’m not going to hold it against you. What I don’t understand is your denial of the things you have learned here.”

“What have I been denying?” she shot back.

“Things concerning your father, and his being a blood mage.”

It fell alarmingly quiet. The others stood in shock, mixed expressions of surprise and dread surrounding the feuding pair. Fenris let out a long, slow exhale, while Relm simply stood there for a long moment, unable to believe what he just said.

The shock didn’t last long, though. Rage replaced it as she took slow, menacing steps towards Fenris. “Did you just call my father a blood mage?”

“Even Carver has realized it, but you won’t hear it!” Fenris looked on, unperturbed at her approach. “That madman all but said it. The Carta were after _your_ blood. The magic used on those seals called to it. Your father was clearly here at some point, and had a hand in this.”

“You,” venom punctuated the word, “are treading on mighty thin ice right now. You don’t know my father. We don’t even know if he was the one who made these seals. That’s a huge assumption. How _dare_ you-”

“This is exactly what I mean! With other mages, you are able to remain objective. But you turn a blind eye to your father. He can do no wrong in your eyes. He spoon fed you lies about blasted soul mates and Maker knows else when you were young, and now here, even after hearing his own words, you refuse to believe that he’s anything less than-”

Relm didn’t even realize what she had done until it was over, when Fenris gingerly touched his cheek, glowing red from where her hand had connected with it. She stepped back, her hand covering her mouth in horror as it sunk in when she had done.

A dozen emotions blazed through her mind at once: horror, regret, anger, satisfaction, disgust… No words could adequately describe them all at once. _I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… but you..._ She wanted to say the words, but they got caught in her throat. With all eyes staring at her, Relm did the only thing that was left to her.

“I need to get out of here.” She turned and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoopsies~
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed this rather long chapter!


	30. History Repeated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relm and company make their way to the end of the prison, where Corypheus awaits.

Relm didn’t know how far she had run or for how long. She stumbled numerous times, nearly winding up on her face. Despite the scrapes she incurred, she ran and ran until finally her legs refused to go any further. Panting heavily, she leaned against a stone wall, sinking to her knees.

Immediately she regretted what she had done. Now she was separated from the others, in a place filled with darkspawn and enemies that wanted her blood. This, she was convinced, was her stupidest idea to date. _The Champion of Kirkwall, vanquisher of Qunari, but can’t even face her own feelings. Stupid, stupid-_

Her muscles tightened suddenly. Her whole body spasmed, causing her to fall over. _Oh no. No no no no!_ Searing pain tore through her as the episode began, sending her writhing on the ground. Her fingers dug into her palms as her back arched violently. Wave after wave of pain swept through her until finally she couldn’t take it anymore and screamed.

Moments later, still in the throes of the episode, she heard footsteps. She couldn’t turn to see who it was. Fearing darkspawn, she tried to move through the pain and struggled to get on her knees. Magic crackled along her hands, ready to fire-

“It’s just me.” Carver knelt next to her and pulled her up into a sitting position. “What’s happening? I can get you to Anders-”

Relm gritted her teeth as another surge of pain cut through her. “Can’t – just got to-” She curled up into a ball against her brother, hands bunched against him, letting the episode ride itself out.

By the time it ended, Relm felt like an age had passed. As her muscles relaxed, her head rolled and landed with a thunk against Carver’s breastplate. “Ow.”

“…was that one of those episodes you’ve been having?”

_Varric really_ did _tell him everything._ “Yes. Probably triggered by the argument, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Then he really wasn’t joking when he said they were bad.” Carver helped Relm sit up, though he kept a hand on her back for support. “Are you going to be able to stand?”

“Eventually.” Her body needed a few minutes to wind down from the episode. Though, she’d always been able to rest afterwards. She didn’t have that option now. While she waited for her body to recover, she asked, “Carver, do you think… was he right?”

He leaned back, taking a seat on the ground. His contemplative expression more or less answered her question. Eventually, he said, “I never thought Father would ever do such a thing. But it _is_ hard to argue with what we’ve seen and heard here. When we see Larius again, we should ask.”

Relm tucked some hair behind her ear. “I can’t imagine it, either.”

“He did have a point, Relm: you do tend to idealize Father.” Carver lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You were close, I get that. But he wasn’t right about everything. Though, he did wind up being right about soul mates. How does Fenris know all about that anyway?”

“A big mistake on my part,” Relm answered bitterly. “We talked about his views on it. I wanted to see where he was coming from. He said that even if it were somehow true, being bound to someone didn’t seem to make it worth it, in his eyes.”

“Scary idea for a former slave. But I don’t think he’s thinking about it in the right way.” Carver stood up. “That’s a conversation for another time. Are you able to get up?”

Relm nodded. Carver held out a hand for her, which she took, gripping hard as he helped her get to her feet. “I guess it’s time to go back. I’ve made a tit of myself.”

“Yeah, you did.” Carver snorted. “But something good came out of it.” He nodded to something behind her. “Look.”

She turned, and saw what he was gesturing at. A narrow path wound around the outskirts of the old ruins, cutting straight through towards the center structure. “A way ahead. Huh.”

“So, not a waste of time at least. I’d make a joke about you getting into arguments with Fenris more often, but I don’t feel like being slapped, too.”

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered as she began walking back in the direction they had come from. Carver followed alongside. For good measure, she smacked him on the arm anyway.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the party very pointedly did not ask about Relm’s outburst, focusing instead on the good news about the path Relm found. It did little to help ease tensions, though, as Fenris and Hawke decidedly ignored the other. Isabela resorted to playing “I Spy” to help lighten the atmosphere.

After they made it to the structure and Relm broke the third seal, they came across Larius again. He approached them, but suddenly he stopped. “What’s that?” His head jerked to the left, then to the right, like a startled bird. “No. No! They’re here.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Relm asked. “The Carta again?”

“Worse. More treacherous. More dangerous. The Wardens.” Larius began to back up. “They listen to Corypheus. They want to bring him to the light. Stop them. You must stop them.” He hobbled away, his feet scraping across the ground in quick succession.

Moments later, voices drifted from the path ahead of them. “Something’s happening,” a woman at the head of the group said as they came into view. “The prison’s breaking down. But it’s stood up to tunneling before-” They stopped, the woman’s brow lifting in surprise as she looked at Hawke. “You. You have the key! And you’ve come through the seals. How?”

“Oh, I have that special touch, I suppose…”

The woman looked at her curiously, before snapping her fingers. “Of course. You must be the same Hawke, child of Malcolm’s.” She nodded. “I am Janeka. I lead this unit of Grey Wardens.”

“Senior Warden, why are you interested in my father?” Carver asked. “The Carta said they needed his blood.”

“Then you don’t know? Without Malcolm, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago.”

It was time for answers. “What did my father do?”

Janeka explained that the Wardens built the prison to contain an extremely powerful darkspawn a long time ago. Though the magic holding it was powerful, it needed to be replenished now and again. “We require the blood of a mage unsullied by Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your father.”

The answer felt like a punch to the gut. Fenris had been right. Malcolm had been a blood mage. Relm squeezed her eyes shut and counted backwards from ten, not wanting to have an outburst in front of these Wardens. “I thought my father knew better.” But she had been wrong. The thought nauseated her.

“To stop the Blights, forbidden practices are sometimes necessary. He did not bind the demons, if that is your concern. That was from before the Chantry’s laws.”

“It explains why the Carta were after us for our blood,” Carver said.

“I need your help, Hawke,” Janeka continued. She explained that Corypheus wasn’t a threat, but an opportunity, and wanted to free him. “Imagine what he could do for us, as a darkspawn who can think, feel, reason…”

Appearing from the shadows once again, Larius snapped, “Corypheus cares nothing for Blights!” He hurried towards them, a frown creasing his tainted face. “He used you!”

“I know how to harness Corypheus! Use his magic to end future Blights. I have a spell to bind him to my will. He will be a new and important weapon in the war on the Blights. No more, no less.”

“No, the Wardens knew! Corypheus is too powerful!”

Hawke wasn’t convinced, and neither was Carver. “There are rules to the order, and with good reason. Father wouldn’t want this.”

Frankly, Relm had had enough of this crap. Enough was on her mind right now, and she wasn’t going to add sentient darkspawn to her troubles, or the troubles of the world. “He might be a great of a threat as the next Blight. We can’t risk freeing him.”

Janeka sneered. “We’ll find a way to do this, with or without you. This prison will be broken.” Janeka backed up, summoning her men to follow her. “The Blights will end. Come!”

“She’s going for the seal!” Sebastian shouted as the Wardens began to escape. But before they could give chase, Janeka summoned a wall of fire between Hawke’s party and hers, cutting off their path as she turned and ran.

“With me!” Larius said. “I know another way!”

 

* * *

 

Larius took them through shortcuts, though their progress was slowed by ancient defense mechanisms Janeka’s men turned on. They chased after her, dogged by Carta and darkspawn as both racing parties hurtled through the ruins to the final seal.

As they left the ruins, they came to a set of stairs that wound up and around towards an imposing tower. After a long climb, they sprinted towards the entrance, the last seal in sight-

“You’re too late, Larius.” Janeka walked out into view, her men gathering around her, standing between Hawke’s party and the seal. “Hand Hawke over and I’ll give you a quick death.”

“Hawke has made her choice – the right one!”

Janeka smirked. “The right one, or the only one? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree.”

“It is in the past! It doesn’t matter!”

Relm disagreed. Frowning, she asked, “What does she mean?”

Larius turned away uncomfortably, staring at the wall. “Malcolm Hawke was reluctant to help. Had to be… persuaded. I was Warden-Commander. It was my duty.” Despite the conviction in his tone, his shoulders sagged as he continued, “I delivered an ultimatum: help us, or you’ll never see her again.”

Carver surged forward, almost looking to grab Larius by the throat. He stopped at the last second, fist bunched at his side. “You did _what_?”

Relm’s mana surged with her fury. “You were going to kill our mother!”

“No, never!” Larius turned, now pleading. “I didn’t know she was with child. Malcolm came with us. I never had to decide her fate. She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me.”

“That doesn’t excuse it!” Carver snapped.

“You see, Hawke?” Janeka said airily. “How can you trust anything he says?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Relm spat at her. “I know when I’m being manipulated. His threats were reprehensible, and damn him for even considering it, but he’s still right about Corypheus.”

The Wardens unsheathed their weapons. “You don’t have to come willingly, Hawke. I just need your blood.”

Relm didn’t enjoy having to fight Wardens, especially those who honestly thought they were doing the right thing. But Janeka forced the battle. It was slow and bloody, and Relm knew that numbers was what helped her side win in the end. Regardless, the sight of Janeka’s body left a bad taste in her mouth.

The seal glowed from magic swirling out from four containment pillars in small alcoves off of the main room. Relm cautiously approached it, Larius hobbling up behind her.

“He stirs. Slay him now, before his strength returns.” Larius gestured to the staff. “The key, it’s not strong enough. Use your blood. Free him and slay him.”

Relm felt nauseous. “I have to…?”

“It’s the only way,” Larius said, looking apologetic. “Blood bound him here, and only blood can undo it.”

She hesitated. Knowing her father practiced blood magic was bad enough, but knowing that _she_ would have to do it, too? To say it sickened her barely scratched the surface. Relm prided herself in being above the use of blood magic. Malcolm instilled that in her, and Fenris’ memories enforced it.

“Hawke.” Merrill walked up to her, standing between her and Larius. “I know you don’t want to have to do it. I’d do it for you, if I could. Just remember that this doesn’t define you, as a person or a mage. You’re not doing this to hurt someone. Your father did this to be with you and your mother, and to keep something dangerous from harming the world. That’s what you’re doing here, too.” She cast a sharp look at the group. “No matter what _anybody_ says.”

Relm almost laughed at Merrill’s jab. “Thank you, Merrill. I… cut off that magic from the pillars, and then I just…?”

“Releasing blood onto the seal should do the trick.”

She nodded. One by one, they went to each pillar and stopped the flow of magic. The room darkened as each pillar shut off. Finally, all that was left was the center seal. Her steps heavy with her task, Relm climbed onto the circle, pulling out her knife. “Like father, like daughter, I suppose. What a heavy legacy you left, Father.” Shaking her head, she held out her hand and quickly sliced the knife over her palm. She grimaced at the sharp jab of pain, feeling the blood ooze. A few drops fell onto the floor below. The floor flashed brightly in response. She held the key-staff up, letting the magic swirling around the seal take it out of her hand. It briefly merged with the magic, interacting with the seal as it glowed brighter and brighter.

Then with a loud bang, the seal broke, the force knocking Relm off of the circle. She landed on her back, wincing as she struggled to stand. Her friends helped her up, and when they all looked up, they froze at what they saw.

An extremely tall, disfigured man – one in the barest sense of the term – stood on the platform, a confused frown distorting his already maligned face. “Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?” When he spotted Hawke, he pointed at her. “You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte!”

“Dumat?” Relm turned towards the others. “Wasn’t that the first Old God to become an archdemon?”

Anders nodded.

Corypheus grunted. “Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter! On your knees, all of you!”

“You, are, ah…” Relm huffed out a nervous laugh. “Very confused. The Imperium hasn’t had a stronghold here in centuries.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and his head lifted, realizing something. “You are what held me. I smell the blood in you.”

Relm could all but see the gears turning in his head. She watched as he looked up at the ceiling, arms thrown out. He entreated, “Dumat! Lord! Tell me. What waking dream is this?” When he was answered with silence, he lowered his arms, frown deepening. “The light. We sought the golden light. You offered… the power of the gods themselves. But it was black… corrupt… Darkness ever since. How long?”

His voice a whisper, Larius said, “He speaks of the Golden City! The first violation. The magisters who brought the world the Blights.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Anders seethed. “There’s no magical boogeyman. It’s just Chantry propaganda!”

“You really think the magisters wouldn’t challenge the Maker?” Fenris shot back. “You need to meet more magisters.”

Relm found it hard to believe as well, but there was a sincerity to the creature’s words, an honest confusion that made her rethink her stance. _What if he’s telling the truth?_ She shook her head. Now was no time for this debate. “If he’s telling the truth… first he went after the Maker in His house, then me in mine. I suppose I’m flattered.”

“It was supposed to be golden!” Corypheus seethed and thrashed. “It was supposed to be _ours_!” His menacing gaze fell on Hawke and company. “If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you! I seek the light!”

Whoever Corypheus was, _whatever_ he was, Relm ascertained one thing: he was pretty damn powerful. With a roar, he unleashed a pulse of magic, knocking the group back. Somewhere in the cacophony, Larius disappeared, leaving Relm and friends to fight Corypheus alone.

He launched spells and wielded abilities that Relm had never even heard of, let alone understood. Once again, their numbers were the only reason they had an advantage. They all shot and stabbed and casted at him whenever they could, but he was resilient. Once they began to press harder, he upped the ante by starting to draw power from the pillars that had contained him.

That’s when it got ugly.

First he engulfed the area with flames, forcing the party to separate and seek refuge in the alcoves off of the main room. They waited out his fits of fire, striking when he was forced to stop and recharge. Not content with just fire, he drew more power from another pillar, this time granting him the power over the earth. Rocks burst through the floor, barring their path and making it far more difficult to escape the subsequent flames.

Just as they were beginning to get the hang of dodging rocks _and_ fire, Corypheus yet again added another challenge: lightning.

“Oh this is getting ridiculous!” Aveline cried out as they ducked into the safety of the alcoves for what felt like the twelfth time (maybe it was that many, Relm had lost count). Flames licked the walls, and the crackle of lightning followed not far behind.

“ _Getting_ ridiculous?” Isabela shouted back, having to yell over the commotion. “It’s been insane since we stepped foot in this place!”

“Amazing.”

“What?”

“I actually agree with you on something.”

Relm rolled her eyes. “As heartwarming as this is, can we save it until after creepy darkspawn magister thing is dead?”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Varric asked, swinging around the wall for a quick second to fire off a bolt at Corypheus before ducking back to safety. “He’s got us pinned!”

“Magister or not, he’s only got so much mana! Eventually he’ll need a breather. Once that happens, we need to hit him with everything we got! Who knows what he’ll pull out next.”

“If he pulls a dragon out of his ass, I’m leaving!” Varric warned.

They waited, riding out this latest burst of spells. Finally, after what felt like an age, Corypheus drew back his magic, the flames and lightning dying down.

Relm skidded around the wall and charged. “Now!”

They ran full tilt at him, spells thrown and arrows fired as the warriors and Isabela closed in on Corypheus. The all-out assault forced him to go on the defensive, throwing up a barrier and deflecting blades rather than pummeling the group with his magic.

It seemed to be working. Relm battered him with her own fire and lightning, and for a moment, she felt confident that the tide was turning. He seemed to be growing weary, their attacks connecting more-

But what she interpreted as encroaching defeat for him turned out to be the lit fuse that sparked desperation. With a roar he flung out his arms, sending another pulse of energy out and knocking them all back. “If I must kill you all one by one, I shall! Your souls will be rendered into dust.” He swung his gaze towards Carver, who fell to the ground closest to Corypheus.

Relm struggled to get to her feet. “Carver!”

Just as Corypheus lunged for him, a figure darted past him and blocked his blow with his sword. Fenris gritted his teeth, feet digging into the stone floor as he pushed back against Corypheus’ might. Growling, Corypheus drew back suddenly, causing Fenris to stumble. “So be it. If you are so eager, you will be the first to die, _rattus_.” He drew back his hand, unrecognizable magic swirling around it. Before Fenris could even lift his sword, Corypheus’ hand lashed out and struck him in the chest.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Relm watched in absolute horror as Fenris flew across the room, landing with a painful crash as his sword skittered across the ground. She waited to see him get to his feet, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even make a sound. Someone screamed; it might have been her. She frantically crawled towards him, not caring if Corypheus was coming or not.

Luckily, that problem was taken care for her. Corypheus bellowed in pain. As she neared Fenris, Relm lifted her head to see what happened and found that Isabela had leapt onto his back, daggers cutting into him and tearing him apart. Corypheus flailed, trying to fling her off. In his floundering, he left his chest exposed. Varric and Sebastian simultaneously seized the opportunity and fired arrows into him.

Despite her legs shaking from the effort, Relm got to her feet and, after summoning all her remaining mana, hurled a lance of ice at him. The icy weapon pierced him, and the magister let out one final shout before he collapsed. Blood pooled beneath his still body.

There was no celebration, just silent panic as Relm dropped to her knees next to Fenris. He didn’t move. “Fenris? Fenris, please. Please don’t do this to me.” She shook him, trying to draw on mana that wasn’t left in her to heal him. “Please. Please.”

Anders came to a skidding halt on the other side of Fenris. He lifted his hands over him. “Come on you bastard. Don’t quit on us now.” Despite looking battered himself, Anders started pouring healing magic into Fenris.

Two minutes passed. The others had gathered around; Relm felt someone put their hand on her shoulder. In desperation, Relm gripped Fenris’ hand in hers, squeezing, hoping to prompt some kind of reaction from him. “Please. I’m so sorry for what I did. Please, just wake up.” She bowed her head, fighting back tears. _Maker, don’t do this to me again. Please._

Fenris’ fingers tightened over hers. He groaned shortly thereafter, shifting to roll onto his back.

“Oh thank the Maker,” Relm said in a rushed breath.

Carver bent down next to her, aiming a sharp look at Fenris. “You idiot, I could have handled him.”

“Your gratitude is overwhelming,” Fenris muttered dryly.

With Fenris pulling through, the atmosphere lightened, and relieved sighs rung out.

“Well, we did it,” Varric said. “Killed what was possibly an ancient magister. That means we should finally be able to ditch this place.”

Footsteps echoed behind them. Relm turned, surprised to find Larius walking towards them – normally, not in his hobbled stature like before. “You did well, Hawke. More than the Wardens of old were able to accomplish. I’ll tell the Warden-Commander of your service here.”

Carver raised a brow. “I’d be careful. We don’t usually come back from the Calling.”

“I must try.”

While it seemed a little rude to ask, Relm couldn’t help but mention, “Why are you talking like that?”

“My head is clear now. Without Corypheus’ call, I can think again. I thank you for my freedom.”

Relm glanced at Carver. He shrugged.

“I don’t think the Wardens will thank me for killing some of their own,” Relm pointed out as she turned back to Larius.

“Janeka disobeyed the Warden-Commander’s express orders. They’ll be relieved she’s gone.” Larius adjusted his armor, preparing to leave. “My gratitude, you have, for my freedom.” He smiled, nodding to them before he turned and left.

Something in his smile stirred uneasiness in Relm. She couldn’t place what it was, but something seemed off. _Probably just because it’s so strange to see him walk and talk normally._ She blew out a breath. “Well. Once we’re all patched up, let’s head home.”

“Don’t know about the rest of you,” Isabela chimed in, “but I plan on getting absolutely piss drunk at the Hanged Man after this.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Relm said. The others chimed up in agreement.

“I guess I should head back to Ansburg,” Carver said. “They’ll want to know what happened.”

“Aw, come on Junior.” Varric nudged him. “Come back with us. Just for one night. Then you can rest up in a proper bed and leave first thing in the morning. It’s been ages since we all drank together.”

Carver hesitated. Relm pressed upon the opportunity. “You can see the estate if you want. The Wardens aren’t going to be suspicious; it’s not like they knew how long this would take.”

The younger Hawke huffed. “All right, all right. I definitely have to go in the morning. But… I have to admit, I sort of miss that place.”

Relm grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I'm sure that's the last Thedas will see of Corypheus. He won't be coming back from that in any way, shape, or form. No sir.
> 
> On a non-sarcastic note, thanks everyone for reading! Next chapter will wrap up this Legacy arc of sorts. Just as a heads up, I'll be moving and going on vacation over the next couple of weeks, so the next chapter will likely take longer than usual. Apologies in advance.


	31. Carver's Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally back in Kirkwall, Relm and Carver talk about the past, and she apologizes to Fenris for what was said and done in the Deep Roads.
> 
> Then, Carver takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and managed to get this up in a timely manner! Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter! I've got another long one for all of you, and I really hope you all enjoy this one. It's one I've been looking forward to for awhile. Something a bit different happens at the end.

It was afternoon by the time the gang returned to Kirkwall. The decision was to rest for a few hours before rendezvousing at the Hanged Man for a night of drinking, playing cards, and wildly exaggerating their experience to anyone willing to listen.

During the downtime, Carver checked out the Amell-turned-Hawke estate, brow raised appreciatively as Relm showed him around. “The Amells had taste, I’ll give them that,” he said.

“Still not able to picture yourself being able to live here?”

He laughed, but shook his head. “Not really. Might have found it the hard way, but I found purpose. I wouldn’t have found that if I stayed in Kirkwall.”

“You want to know something funny? Well, probably not funny, just sad and pathetic. But… I sort of envy you that.”

“You’re the Champion. The city calls on you for help, and you answer. While it sounds infuriating to me, I always figured it suited you.” He paused. “Doesn’t it?”

“I’m not making light of what happened to you, or what you deal with as a Warden. But you get to move around, do some definitive good, and from what I’ve seen of you the past couple days, it’s really shaped you.” She scratched idly at her arm. “There’s a kind of freedom to it that I wish I had.”

“Wishing you could get out of Kirkwall?”

“Sort of. There’s… so much that binds me here. I don’t think I’ll never be free of it.”

The implication hung in the air. Carver hesitated a moment before saying, “…Fenris?”

She was loathe to admit it, but, “A little bit. I love him dearly, but it’s so tiring having to deal with all of that. Sometimes I just wish it’d go away. I can’t regret it, but sometimes it just…”

Carver thoughtfully studied the fire roaring in the fireplace in front of them. “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right, either. I’m bound to the Order, just as much as you are to your life here. Everyone is tied to something, and apparently we’re all bound to someone. Sure, maybe it’s easier for some to cut those ties, but I wonder at what cost.” He snorted. “I mean, consider what just happened. The darkspawn, the attacks, every bloody part of it, all because of what happened years ago. Whether we like it or not, we’re tied to Father, and his legacy.” His expression softened. “We’re tied to all of it. What he did for Mother. What he did for all of us, really.”

“A lovely thought: a never ending chain that tries to strangle us,” Relm muttered.

“Maybe. But you know, just because it’s binding, doesn’t mean it’s bad. Not all the ties that bind are chains.”

The words made Relm pause and consider. Perhaps her little brother had a point there.

Carver sighed. “It doesn’t seem right, does it? That Mother isn’t here to… I don’t know. Just listen, I guess. I want to talk to her.”

They were broaching a sensitive subject. Relm feared moving forward with it. But she swallowed and pressed on, not wanting to pass up the chance. “I know it was hard, how much time Father had to spend with Bethany and I.” She hoped that at least acknowledging it might help heal the wound.

“He started training me, too, best he could. Then I picked up some things from those soldiers who came through.” He smiled proudly. “Remember when I beat him? Took the blade clean away.”

“He was holding back…”

“On magic? Sure, but not the blade. After that, well… he knew I could handle the house while he was off with you two. I suppose I can see why he was so concerned.”

So many memories surfaced: all the days of training in secret, of Carver bitterly turning his back as they left, and the fear of templars hounding them. She remembered Father’s stories, and the way Carver and Bethany would sit with her and ask about the elven boy she saw in her dreams. Her heart clenched in something akin to homesickness. “I know it was hard, a lot of the time. Maker knows I contributed to that. But there was a time when we were happy. I mean, it wasn’t always so bad, was it?”

“I think I blinked and missed it.” Carver snorted. “But yes, we had some good times. Still… it won’t do us any good to linger on it for too long. We have to work with what we have now.”

“A part of me still tries to go back to that time, when things were simpler.” Back when she still thought she would be together with her family. Back when she naively thought that finding her soul mate meant everything would turn out all right. “I try to remember what it was like.”

“What ‘what’ was like?”

“To have hope.”

 

* * *

 

Relm watched more than participated in their outing at the Hanged Man. She wasn’t in a merrymaking mood. Besides, Carver and Isabela provided ample enough entertainment. Her little brother smirked as he flipped a copper straight into the cup for the third consecutive time.

Isabela pouted before taking a drink. “Well, shit. You’ve gotten better since we last played this.”

“The Wardens have quite a lot of knowledge to impart. Not all of it has to do with darkspawn and Blights.”

“And Junior takes down the Rivaini _again_.” Varric chuckles before taking a swig from his tankard. “Have to say, Junior. The Wardens are a good fit for you. While your angsty phase was… charming, I think I like you better all grown up.”

“Hmph. I guess I was a bit of a tit back then, huh?”

He was immediately met with a chorus of agreements, ranging from delicate (“You were a little bit whiny”) to the blunt (“Immensely.”) Still, Carver merely laughed off the remarks, going back to playing coppers.

Relm felt proud of him. He really had grown up in the time since he’d left Kirkwall. She only wished their mother could see him now.

As the game continued, Relm turned away, diverting her attention to the elf sitting slightly away from the rest of the group. Fenris was still nursing his wounds, and his first drink. Relm had been surprised that he’d come at all. Aside from perhaps some lighthearted cajoling, no one would have blamed him for staying home to rest. Anders had even yelled at him a bit for not doing just that. Fenris had waved him off, though with an assurance that he would leave if he grew exhausted.

His eyes met her across the way. The echoes of their argument resonated between them, leaving them both unsure as to how to proceed. In times past, Fenris came to Relm to apologize, but she knew this time, she had to be the initiator.

Leaving her drink at the table, she walked over to him. Though his gaze was not welcoming, it was not hostile, either. Wary was the best term Relm could ascribe to it. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?”

Fenris shook his head.

She sat down next to him. “How’s your injury?”

“Survivable, according to Anders, albeit uncomfortable. He said to keep applying poultices to it and try to not use my markings. He fears the lyrium may irritate it, since the wound was inflicted by magic.” He lifted a shoulder. “Purely guesswork, as he wasn’t sure just what that magic _was_.”

“You’re going to listen to him, right?”

“We may not agree on hardly anything, but I know sound medical advice when I hear it.”

For all that Fenris could be stubborn, his logic usually won out when it counted. Relm nodded, before continuing, “Onto the awkward part then. First thing first: I shouldn’t have struck you, and I’m so sorry I did. I didn’t even mean to. It just… happened. Usually I can control my temper better than that.”

“It certainly surprised me.” Fenris shifted, wincing as he moved to sit up a bit straighter. “I accept your apology.” He paused. “I… should have gone about initiating that discussion much differently.”

“You wound up being right. And I get why you were upset.”

“Yes, but that didn’t necessitate yelling about it. I failed to consider that he was your father, and whatever his beliefs, you loved him. Declaring him a blood mage and demanding you accept it in that moment was harsh. For that, I am sorry as well.”

“I pushed the subject when you told me not to, remember.” Relm ran a hand through her hair. “Chalk it up to being handled poorly all around?”

“Agreed.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Not our best moment. I think exhaustion and the tense situation only worsened things.”

Among other reasons, but Relm nodded along. If it had come up while they were rested and not trapped in a Deep Roads prison, she imagined they would have been able to discuss it maturely, or at least not resort to shouting. She looked down at her hand, still wrapped in a bandage. “Now for the really awkward bit. Do… you consider me a blood mage now?” _And are you going to want anything to do with me?_

A tense silence followed. Fenris’ ears drooped, his usual scowl deepening. Relm knew that look, and she waited to let him sort out of his thoughts.

“I suppose I should, since I labelled your father as such. But I don’t think that’s quite the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You and I could debate for hours what constitutes a true ‘blood mage’, but even if you are, and if your father was, that doesn’t mean you should be condemned.” He sighed uneasily. “While I hate that you used blood magic, I won’t deny that you didn’t have a choice in the matter. And, given what your father was up against, I cannot blame him entirely for doing it, either. You both were placed in an unwinnable situation by the Wardens. If anyone should be blamed, it’s them.”

“But even what they were doing wasn’t bad. Look at what Corypheus was. I mean, short of them having easy access to an entire lyrium vein, they weren’t going to be able to seal Corypheus without blood magic.” Relm liked to think that the Wardens would have done it any other way, if it was possible. “My father wanted to spare Bethany and me from ever having to be in that position. I wish he was here, so I could talk to him about it. I know you don’t think much of him, but he _was_ a good man, Fenris. Even Carver would tell you that.”

Fenris drank from his tankard, setting it down on the table with a _thunk_. “Sadly, I will never get the chance to judge for myself, but he raised you well, all things considered. You’re a responsible mage, and I heard as much about your sister, too. I am sorry you lost them so early.”

How often she had wondered about how different things might be, if Malcolm were still alive. She pondered what his opinion of Fenris would be, and what advice he’d give her in regards to their bond. Maybe she wouldn’t be in such a mess if he’d been around to guide her. “Losing him was hard, and everything changed after he died. Mother and Bethany would both be alive, if he hadn’t gotten sick.” She paused, then huffed out a laugh. “I’m doing it again.”

“You really did think highly of him,” Fenris murmured. “Perhaps they would be alive. But, that doesn’t necessarily mean something worse may not have happened instead.”

“Right. And it won’t change anything. They’re all gone now.” All but one. “And I have you to thank for protecting the last of them. It was extremely reckless, but still… thank you for protecting Carver.”

“Admittedly, it didn’t go quite the way I planned.”

“That, uh… did look like it hurt quite a fair bit. For a moment there, I thought you had-” Her throat tightened as the memory played out in her head: the gut wrenching fear, the long wait as Anders struggled to bring him back around, and the sweet flood of relief when he came to. “Gratitude for saving my brother aside: don’t do that again.”

His expression softened. “I did not mean to worry you.”

He said the words with such an empathetic sincerity that Relm found herself left speechless. So she just stared, mind spinning to think of a response. It was moments like those that made her reconsider whether or not he really had let go of his feelings for her. Sometimes, like right then, he looked at her in such a way that she almost, _almost_ could believe that maybe he-

_No. Don’t go down that path. He left because you scared him away._ She looked away sharply, forcing a laugh. “Well, I guess we’re even now.”

Their conversation ended when Isabela called them over to have another go at Wicked Grace, apparently fed up with coppers now that Carver had gotten good at the game. Feeling unsure of herself, Relm avoided speaking to Fenris for the rest of the night. The others provided ample enough distraction.

An hour into their game, Fenris began to fade. Merrill nudged him, quietly urging him to go home. For once, he listened to her.

“Get some rest, elf,” Varric said. “And let Aveline do the protecting from now on. She’s got the shield and the build for it.”

“Someone should take you home,” Relm said. “I can-”

“I’ll do it.” Carver shoved his chair back, the legs scraping across the floor as he got to his feet. “I’m going to turn in then. Early start tomorrow, and I’m not going to nurse a hangover on the road.”

The others bid him farewell, admonishing him to write more and to try and visit. Carver scoffed, but as Relm walked with him and Fenris to the door, he quietly said, “I’ll try and write a bit more. Not always possible, though. We never know where we’ll wind up.”

“I get why the letters are rare,” Relm said as they walked outside. She stopped a few feet from the doorway. “They just worry, and so do I. Watch yourself, little brother. Though hopefully just for the usual darkspawn and not crazy Carta.”

Carver nodded to her. “Take care, Sister. You’re not the only one who worries, believe it or not.”

With that, he beckoned to Fenris to lead on. Relm watched the two men leave, nervously rubbing her hands together. _Please don’t let this be the last time I see Carver._

 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to Relm and Fenris, however, Carver wasn’t walking Fenris back home out of the goodness of his heart, or because he happened to be going to bed early as well. The youngest Hawke had an ulterior motive.

The two men walked back to Fenris’ mansion in silence, which suited Carver just fine. He used the time to think. He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t one for tact, but what he wanted to do required a delicate touch. An intimidating effort, given his propensity for being blunt and direct. One wrong move and he could set off a chain of events that could lead to his sister’s downfall. Because Carver knew for certain that if things continued for Relm as they were, he was going to lose her, and Carver had lost enough family. He wasn’t going to stand idly by and lose what little of it he had left.

Varric wrote to him over a year ago, divulging what he had learned from Hawke and asking for some insight. Carver almost didn’t believe him, but the details Varric spelled out in his letter convinced him in the end. Over the year that passed since then, the dwarf kept Carver abreast of what happened. With each letter, Carver’s concern grew. A part of him wanted to believe that Varric had been exaggerating. After seeing Relm’s condition, however, he could no longer deny it. If something was not done, Relm was going to be lost, destroyed by a bond that Carver didn’t understand, but knew all too well was real.

If he were an unreasonable man, he’d blame Fenris for it.

He glanced over at the elf, who scowled at the shadows looming around them, looking for danger they might have been hiding. Carver had questions, and those were going to be answered tonight, if he had his way. He just needed to figure out how to go about it without inflicting further damage. Carver had promised Relm that he would never tell Fenris the truth. But if Relm refused to budge, then that meant Fenris was going to have to. _And he’s as stubborn as Relm. Fitting, I suppose._ Carver had a monumental task ahead of him.

Fenris grunted as they approached his mansion. He pushed open the door, turning and nodding to Carver. “I appreciate you seeing me home. As loathe as I am to admit it, I would not be able to defend myself from an attack in this state.”

_Oh, you’re not getting off that easy._ “I’ll see you upstairs. Those bandages probably need changing, and I suppose I owe you for trying to protect me, even if it wasn’t necessary.”

Fenris answered him with a snort, walking inside and shutting the door behind Carver. “You were on the ground, defenseless. I do not think that would have ended well.”

The two men climbed the stairs. “I have thicker armor than you, and a bigger build. I could have taken it.” Carver glanced around, shaking his head at the dilapidated state. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“It seems a family trait to be so concerned with the upkeep of my home,” Fenris muttered wryly.

Somehow, Carver wasn’t surprised. “My mother kept a clean house. Relm been on your case about cleaning it?”

As they cleared the top of the stairs, Fenris frowned thoughtfully. “Not… in some time. She used to, though.”

One would normally think that a good thing, but Carver caught the unease in his tone. “Being Champion takes a lot of time,” Carver supplied as they walked into the master bedroom.

“So it would seem.” He sounded hardly convinced.

_Yes,_ Carver thought as Fenris sat down, still frowning, _he knows something’s going on._

Fenris took off his shirt, revealing the bandages that wound over his chest. Carver found a fresh roll of them on a nearby table and grabbed it, beginning to unravel the roll. As he did, he glanced up at Fenris, watching him for a moment as he began undoing his bandages. He’d never seen his markings so plainly before. He’d heard some of the others call them pretty. All he could think of was that night, when Relm screamed so loud he thought she was getting murdered in her bed. Relm threw up; he remembered how she retched. It scared him and Bethany. They had pressed their ears to the wall that adjoined Relm’s room and theirs, listening as their father talked to her. Most of all, he remembered how shaken up she had been as she told their father what had happened.

What Relm went through from that night forward scarred her, yet she kept it to herself. She went about building a relationship with Fenris as if she knew nothing. And if she had her way, he never would know. The cost would be astronomical, but she was stubborn enough to try and pay it.

Carver inhaled deeply as he sat down besides Fenris as the elf removed his old bandages. It was now or never. For Relm’s sake, he couldn’t lose his nerve.

“You scared the shit out of my sister doing that, you know,” Carver said, watching Fenris as he paused in his task.

The elf very pointedly did not look at him. “She would have been far more upset if something had happened to you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Fenris scoffed. “You can’t possibly mean to say she cares so little for you. You’re her brother, and one of two family members she has left.”

“It’s not a matter of how much she cares about _me._ ” Carver braced himself for the plunge. “You had her half scared to death. For her sake, don’t pull another stunt like that.” A discomforting silence fell between them. Fenris seemed to pull away, but Carver refused to let it go. “What? Did you think she no longer cares about you?”

A flash of annoyance crossed Fenris’ features. “I do not doubt she cares. What I am questioning is why you are prying into a matter that does not concern you.”

“It _does_ concern me, that’s the problem: _I’m concerned._ ” Carver wore a scowl to match Fenris’.

“There is nothing to be concerned about. It is over.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from the man who’s still wearing the favor she gave you.”

Tension filled the air, rolling in hard and fast like a storm. Carver braced himself for the argument.

Fenris bristled, his fingers digging into the bandages. “I am not discussing my reasons with you-”

“You damn well will,” Carver shot back. “Why are you still wearing it? For someone who’s trying to pretend you’re over her, you’re doing a terrible job. What do you think that’s doing to her? I know what happened between you two. When I saw you wearing it, I was confused. And if _I’m_ confused, I can only imagine what she’s thinking!”

Fenris shoved off of his seat, going to pace as normal. However, he stopped and winced, remembering he wasn’t quite up for doing that in his current state. “Is that why you came over? To tell me to stop wearing it, that I’m somehow holding your sister back from moving on?”

“I’m not telling you anything until you answer my question.”

Fenris tore off the rest of his bandages, hurling them at the wall. A huge splotch of red, yellow and purple bloomed over his chest, still raw from the spell that punched it just days earlier. “ _Fenhedis._ I treasure what she gave me, and I was not going to let it sit ignored. Is that answer enough for you?”

Carver really wanted to just punch him, but he swallowed back his anger. He needed to try a different approach. “That favor was our mother’s. She gave it to our father. After he died, she held onto it, and later passed it on to Relm. It’s one of the only things we have left of either of them, especially our father. She wouldn’t have given that to just anyone.”

Fenris’ indignation sizzled out, leaving his ears drooping and his shoulders sagging. He sighed. “I will return it to her.”

Clearly that approach backfired. Carver resisted the urge to scream at the ceiling _._ “You don’t get it. You think that if you give it back, she’ll finally move on, but that’s not going to happen.”

“Your sister is beautiful and charming, among many other things. Not to mention she’s rich and powerful. She would have no problem finding someone.”

“And yet she hasn’t. Don’t you find that a little odd?”

Fenris glanced away. “I’m sure she will in time.”

_…Maker, I want it noted that I_ tried _doing this tactfully but as I’m sure you’d agree, it’s not working_. It was time for Plan B, for Blunt. “I don’t know if you’re being that thick or if you don’t want to admit what’s going on, but I’m going to say it: she’s not going to move on. I know my sister.” _And I know what’s going on. Not that it’s your fault you don’t._ “You think you can just wrap that memento of the past around your wrist, wallow in what was, and pretend everything’s okay the way it is? Well, it’s not. Tell me: what do you think has been going on with her? You’ve had to have noticed she’s not doing well.”

A muscle in Fenris’ jaw twitched. The elf very deliberately kept his gaze away from Carver. The tension mounted as he waited. Finally, Fenris said, “I think she is hiding something. Whatever it is, it’s causing great suffering, though she insists she’s fine-” Suddenly he stopped, eyes widening. “You’re not suggesting it’s-”

“Because of you?” Harsh words, Carver knew, but it was time the truth came out. “Yeah, it is. Maybe not entirely: Mother’s death hit her hard, and it’s got to be lonely, living in that mansion with two oblivious dwarves and that elf. Being Champion probably doesn’t make things any easier. But the worst of it is because of you.” He let the words sink in for a moment, shoving aside his guilt as Fenris grimaced. “Her fault for keeping it pent up and acting like everything’s fine, but it’s not fine. It’s not even close.”

“ _Why_?” What Carver suspected was supposed to be a demand sounded more like a plea. Fenris shoved his hand through his hair. “I am not worth what she is putting herself through. And – no, it can’t be true. Hawke isn’t so irrational. She’s stronger than that. You mean to actually tell me that she’s been so miserable because of a broken heart?” Fenris finally turned to Carver, his eyes searching for the admittance of a lie.

But Carver showed him nothing but the truth, holding firm and waiting as Fenris’ resolve crumbled. He hated doing this, but it had to be done.

Fenris’ shoulders sagged in defeat. “I don’t understand. Why?”

Carver recognized he was toeing a razor thin line. He needed to choose his words carefully. After a moment’s deliberation, he said, “That’s a question for my sister. Ask her.” Just because he promised Relm he wouldn’t tell Fenris the truth, it didn’t mean he couldn’t give him a hard shove in the right direction. _Loophole._

Fenris’ eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Carver. “There’s something you’re not saying.”

“Yes, but it’d be best coming from my sister.” _You would never believe me anyway._ “It’s not for me to say. But I didn’t come here to just guilt trip you.” Carver got to his feet.

“Then why _did_ you come?”

“To tell you to get your shit together.” Carver handed the end of the roll of bandages to Fenris before walking behind him. “You’re not over her, she’s not over you, now you know something else is going on, and something needs to be done.” He helped Fenris wrap the bandages around himself, making sure they went on straight. “It should be Relm, but she’s too damn stubborn. She won’t do anything that would risk upsetting her precious Fenris.”

Despite Carver’s deliberately mocking tone, the elf said nothing, though Carver caught a glimpse of his brow furrowing.

“So it’ll have to be you,” Carver continued. “I don’t know what you’re hung up on, but whatever it is, take care of it, and soon. Whatever it takes.” With that, they finished wrapping the wound. Fenris secured it while Carver set the roll down on the bench in front of the fire. “And stop jerking my sister around. Make up your bloody mind.” _And don’t you dare break her heart again, or I’ll break your scrawny neck._ Yet he knew adding on that demand would be counterproductive, so instead he finished with, “Next time I’m in Kirkwall, and if this is still going on, you and I are going to have a different kind of conversation entirely.”

Fenris sat down on the bench. “I’ll take heed of your words, and ignore the implied threat, if only because you’re Hawke’s brother. Speaking of, I assume you’d rather you sister didn’t know about this?”

“No, but if she does, it’s not like she can do much.” Which was why he decided that he had to be the one having this conversation, and not Varric. The dwarf needed to keep the peace, and if he rocked the boat, he wouldn’t be able to escape Relm’s wrath. Carver, on the other hand, would have miles and a Warden fortress between him and his sister.

Carver headed for the door, having said all that he could. Or so he thought, until he reached the doorway, when one more thing occurred to him. “Before I go… you told Relm that she was blind when it came to our father. You were right. But, you have blind spots, too.” He glanced back at him. “Just remember that. Sometimes, you’re wrong about things that you thought you were so sure of, too.”

With that, he nodded to Fenris and left. _Let’s hope that was enough. I’m not losing Relm to this._ He had done all that he could. The rest was up to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know it's bad when Junior is being the reasonable one.
> 
> Carver "Would You Take a *%$& Hint Already" Hawke, exiting stage left! But this still won't be the last we'll see of him. Thanks for reading, and see you next chapter!


	32. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, even the most stubborn of people have to realize when to give in. But as Hawke readies herself for the inevitable conversation, something happens to derail her plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are again. Thanks so much for all the reviews and kudos. I think Carver wins MVP for last chapter. I'm so glad everyone seemed to enjoy it.
> 
> Unbelievably, this is the longest chapter to date. By a lot. So, uh, make sure you have a lot of time before reading it. Hope you all enjoy~
> 
> EDIT: jesus I almost forgot to put a warning for this chapter. Content warning for death involving a minor, and everything terrible associated with that. This chapter is not very lighthearted.

Relm knew it wasn’t going to be a good day when she stepped outside and heard a faint commotion drifting from the marketplace in Hightown.

Her feet pounded against the cobblestone streets as she ran, following the sound of the ruckus. It didn’t take long before she saw a large crowd gathered. Jeers and shout rang off the walls and stalls in the marketplace, though Relm couldn’t make out what they were yelling about. She pushed through the crowd to see what they were gathered around.

When she emerged, she found Knight Commander Meredith and some templars in a heated argument with a boy and a girl, no more than sixteen years old, and a throng of adults. Relm assumed the adults were their parents. To her horror, the kids were in custody of the templars; the girl struggled against the templar holding her. “Enough you brat!” he hissed at her.

Playing the beleaguered mediator was Donnic, who stood between the templars and the adults. “Easy with her,” he snapped at the templar. “She’s just a child.”

“Please, Knight-Commander,” a woman in a plain dress pleaded. “There’s no discussion of soul mates or any of that heresy in our house. This is a mistake!”

A man in fine clothes puffed his cheeks, angrily pointing a finger at a curly haired templar; Relm vaguely recognized him as Knight Captain Cullen. “I gave you evidence of this because my son’s a victim here! I heard that little bitch refer to my son as a soul mate. She’s filling his head with it! But my son shouldn’t be jailed for being seduced by some-”

Meredith silenced him with a cold look. “Both children practiced this heresy. Both will be tried. If your son was privy to this for any length of time, he should have spoken up sooner.”

The crowd jeered and cried out, voicing their approval. Relm’s stomach turned in knots. _How can anyone support this?_

Donnic sighed in exasperation. “Knight Commander, can’t the children be interviewed in their homes? I understand the crime here, but they’re young. It seems-”

“Mind your place, guardsman,” Meredith snapped. “This falls under the purview of the templars and Chantry, and of no concern to you.”

Relm had had enough. “But it certainly concerns _me_ ,” she said as she strode towards them.

The woman in the plain dress visibly straightened as Hawke drew near. “Champion! Thank the Maker! Please help.”

Meredith aimed that characteristic stony gaze at Hawke. “Your assistance is not required here, Champion. The situation is under control.”

“The situation is anything but,” Hawke fired back. “They’re kids. Ten to one they didn’t know any better. They need to be reprimanded by parents, not jailed.”

“They are old enough to understand the consequences of their actions. Neither of them denied their beliefs.”

The girl snarled, “That’s because you wouldn’t believe us, even if we did! It was just some fun, okay? Something romantic. We didn’t mean any of it.”

Hawke looked at her. “Do you honestly believe in it?”

The girl paused, glancing at the boy before shaking her head. “No, serah. We really don’t. We’ll renounce it in front of the Grand Cleric or whatever it takes, but please. We won’t do it again. It just seemed kind of exciting, that’s all!”

For his part, the boy simply looked away, shame-faced as he stared at the ground.

Relm didn’t believe them, but the greater concern laid with Meredith and whether or not _she_ did. “Knight Commander, these are two teenagers who dipped a toe into the forbidden. It’s like stealing your father’s horse and going for a joy ride, or trying to run off with a traveling troupe. Treat this for what it is.”

“You and I, Champion, have much different ideas about adolescent rebellion,” Meredith said. “If I show these young ones leniency, then what example does that set? Am I to show every offender such tolerance?” The commander shook her head, putting on an air of regret. Relm didn’t buy it. “I’m afraid that is not feasible. They must face the consequences of their actions.” She motioned to her men. “Take them to the Gallows for interrogation.”

Both parents cried out in dismay as the crowd cheered. The nobleman father screamed at the templars, demanding they unhand his son. The plainly clothed mother cried and tried to reach for her daughter, begging them not to take her away. Donnic still tried to reason with the templars, even as they began to drag the kids away. All around them rose a cacophony of voices, high and low, joy and terror in equal parts.

Hawke’s mind spun, trying to think of what to do. Starting a fight would help no one, but she couldn’t stand by idly. She had half a mind to march up to Meredith and-

“Stop him!” Cullen’s voice cut through the uproar.

Relm turned, only to find that the boy had managed to free one of his arms and grab a dagger tucked into a templar’s skirts. He swung and cut at the man’s hand, forcing him to let go. His blood sprayed the ground. The boy broke free and charged at the templar holding the girl. As they collided, the girl fell loose from his grip.

“Shana, run!” the boy cried.

But before she could even make it two steps, the tackled templar grabbed the boy. As he did, the boy swung the dagger at him, cursing and shouting at him to let him go. Shana tried to pull him free. The onlookers cheered the fight on.

Just as Hawke registered what was happening and started running towards them, the templar managed to pry the dagger from the boy’s hand. The teenager reached for it, clawing at the templar’s helm to disorient him.

“No!” Relm shouted, pulling out her staff.

Just as she reached them, the dagger swung down, straight into the boy’s neck.

Silence fell over them all as the boy dropped to the ground, gurgling up blood as it seeped into his mouth and out through his wound. The templar stepped back, his expression hidden behind his helm as the boy convulsed at his feet. Shana fell to her knees at his side, begging him to hold on. She tried slowing the bleeding, the boy’s blood coating her hands, but it was no use. The boy managed to grip her hand in his before he fell limp.

Shana screamed, so loud Hawke swore the Maker could have heard it. She wailed, burying her face into his chest. Behind them, the boy’s father collapsed into a heap, brokenly sobbing.

“How unfortunate it came to this,” Meredith said. “Arrest the girl. The boy’s body will need to be-”

But as the templar went to grab Shana, Relm butted in front of him and knocked him back with her staff. She planted herself firmly between Shana and the templars, staring them down. “Don’t even try it. You’ll find that I present more of a challenge than two teenagers.”

“Step aside, Champion!” Meredith snarled. “You interfere with the duty of-”

“ _Your_ duty is to protect and oversee the well-being of the mages of this city’s Circle. _Mine_ is to protect the citizens of this city from any threat.” She lifted her chin. “If that means protecting them from templars and their overreaching knight commander, so be it. A boy is dead, Meredith. You’ll gain nothing by locking this girl up.”

The crowd gasped. Relm had never openly challenged Meredith until now. She gripped her staff hard to hide her shaking hands. The knight commander began to walk towards her, each step more foreboding than the last. “If I must-”

“That’s enough.” The Grand Cleric’s voice rang out over the marketplace. From well behind the templars, Elthina and a small throng of Chantry sisters and brothers strode towards the crowd. Elthina paused as she took in the bloody scene, shaking her head in dismay. “What a tragedy.”

“Grand Cleric.” Meredith turned from Hawke and bowed her head respectfully to Elthina. “We were in the middle of arresting-”

“I saw everything, Meredith.”

“Then you understand that this was an unfortunate accident that could have been avoided.”

“Yes. Yet another such tragic incident in these arrests of yours.” Elthina motioned to her lay people. “Let us get his body away from here, and speak with his family.” She aimed her attention at the crowd. “Everyone please, return to your homes. Let these people have some peace.”

With the crowd dispersing, she turned towards Hawke, but her gaze went past her. “While what these children did was foolish, they were meted a far harsher punishment than either deserved. The girl will return home to her family.”

It was an empty, petty victory, but Relm almost smiled as Meredith’s face turned a frightening shade of red, mouth open to protest. She almost wished she would, just to see Elthina slap her down. However, Meredith thought better of it and quickly composed herself. “As you wish,” she ground out. “We must return to the Gallows.”

As Meredith and her retinue began to depart, Relm nodded to the Grand Cleric. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Sometimes the knight commander forgets that mercy can go a long way.”

“Perhaps it’s time she was reminded of that. I think a conversation about these raids of hers is warranted”

Elthina’s expression betrayed nothing of what she thought of Relm’s insinuation. “Thank you, Champion.”

Relm turned towards Shana, who was sobbing and still gripping the boy’s hand. When the laypeople came to take his body away, she screeched and shoved them away. “No!”

Hawke’s heart broke at the sight. She bent down next to her, a hand on her back. “Shana, I can’t imagine how much it must hurt, but he’s gone. Let them take care of his body.” She reached out, gently prying his hand out of hers. “Let him have his last rites.”

Shana finally let him go, curling up into herself as they lifted the boy’s body.

Relm pulled her in close, her arms shaking with the girl’s heavy sobs. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “I’m so sorry. Go to Darktown, look for the lantern that’s always lit. The healer there knows people who can help you.”

“I just want to _die_ ,” Shana sobbed.

“I know. But you’ve got to try and live on, for your sake, and for his memory. Don’t let them win.”

Just then, Shana’s mother hurried over to them. Relm let Shana go as the girl buried herself against her mother’s chest. “Thank you, Champion. I need to get my daughter home.”

Relm nodded, standing up and watching as they walked away. Shana barely managed to walk on her shaking legs. _I’m so, so sorry._

From the corner of her eye, she saw Donnic approach her, looking as harried and haggard as she felt. “I had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well.” He ran a hand over his hair. “But not like that.”

Relm felt like a failure. A boy died on her watch, and a girl was now irreparably scarred for life. She rubbed a hand over her face. “Not my best bit of Championing.”

“There was no good outcome there,” Donnic said firmly. He blew out a sigh, glancing away. Suddenly, he nudged her. “I think someone wants to talk to you.”

Relm followed his gaze, and found herself staring across the marketplace and towards a small walkway that led out of the area. Leaning against a building along that path was Fenris, arms crossed as he watched the two of them.

Donnic lifted a hand in greeting to him; Fenris returned the gesture. “I’ll have to catch up with him later. I need to tell Aveline what’s happened here.” He nodded in parting to Relm.

Relm bade him goodbye as he turned to leave. Her legs felt like lead as she trudged towards Fenris. Despite Donnic’s words, she still considered this a monumental failure on her part. But she supposed it was only fitting. She couldn’t even solve her own soul mate problem; how was she in any position to help anyone else? _Some Champion you are._

Fenris’ eyes never left her as she approached him. His gaze pierced through her, making her feel exposed. Ever since they’d gotten back from the Deep Roads, she felt like whenever he looked at her, he was searching for some kind of answer, like she was a puzzle to be put together and solved. It made her hairs stand on end.

“It wasn’t your fault,” was what Fenris opened with once they stood face to face. “I know that expression. Hawke, if you hadn’t intervened, that girl may not be alive.”

Relm knew he meant well by his words, but they rang hollow to her. She didn’t want logic. She wanted comforting. She wanted him to hold her and tell her he was there for her. The ache for his touch overwhelmed her, her soul pulling her towards him with such insistence that her foot moved towards him, like she was about to pull him into an embrace. At the last second, she pushed herself back and pressed her back against the far wall.

Fenris seemed taken aback by the display. “Hawke?”

“I’m just so tired, Fenris.” The words tumbled out without her meaning them to. “I’m so tired of being forced into situations that I can’t win. I’m so tired of being beaten down with no end in sight. I’m so tired of watching everything crumble around me and me being powerless to do anything about it.” She thunked her head against the wall. “I’m just _tired_.”

Fenris tilted his head, his eyes probing her. “What exactly is crumbling?”

“This city. And…” _My bloody life._ “It just, it feels like it’s all falling apart.”

“I still stand by what I said: you should get away from here for awhile. You need to rest, Hawke.”

It wouldn’t help. Nothing would. Hawke simply shrugged. “Someday, maybe.” Words only meant to placate him, to get him off the subject. Fenris looked unconvinced. Relm pressed on before he could say anything, “I should get home. I’ll see you tonight, in Darktown.”

“Are you certain you want to tackle that tonight? From what Aveline said, it isn’t something that needs immediate addressing.”

“Better than doing nothing and be alone with my thoughts.” She offered a strained smile. “Besides, what better catharsis than killing criminals?”

 

* * *

 

Relm felt a headache forming as she approached their rendezvous point that night. It only promised to get worse when she heard Anders and Aveline arguing. _For fuck’s sake…_

“-are you not more outraged?” Anders demanded as Relm, begrudgingly, stepped around the corner.

Aveline crossed her arms, staring down the angry mage as Varric stood a ways from them. The dwarf shot Hawke a suffering look.

“I’m not thrilled by what happened, Anders. But I don’t have the authority to stop her.”

“So you’re not going to say anything at all?”

“I’ve already spoken with her about the casualties these raids have, but it falls outside my purview. Donnic technically was out of line with what he did.”

Anders sneered. “So, latrine duty for him then?”

“No. I would have done the same. But as it stands-”

“I’m now here,” Relm cut in, “and that means we’re not talking about this anymore.” As Anders opened his mouth to protest, Relm cut him off with a glare. “No. End of discussion. I’m sorry, but it’s still too raw for me. Please. Now, Aveline, where are the others?”

“They’re starting from the other end of this passageway,” she said. “This ring of smugglers usually convene around here. They’ve escaped far too many times now, so I want to ensure they’re surrounded. Both parties can convene on them and take them out.”

“Works for me. Let’s go.”

Relm looked forward to the battles. She kept hoping someone would leap out at them, forcing a fight. She wasn’t disappointed; minutes later, a few of those smugglers caught sight of Aveline in all her guardsman regalia and drew their weapons.

She hurled herself at the assailants, finding relief in cutting through them and blasting them with magic. Even being struck felt good; physical pain was easier to deal with than the emotional agony she endured daily. And today had been especially bad. She perpetually craved some kind of physical contact with Fenris, but today, it had gotten to be unbearable. A part of her still struggled with the urge to hunt him down and toss herself at him. She could only guess why, but whatever the reason, cutting down those smugglers provided some outlet.

Still, with each battle that passed, Relm found her pain returning in short time. She was lost in her thoughts, trying to press through the pain.

“Are you all right?”

She glanced over at Anders, noting the worry in his expression. “Yes. I’m not hurt badly, I promise. Just a lot on my mind.”

“I know you said not to discuss it, but, I’m glad you were there for them. At least that girl knows she had someone in her corner.”

“Paltry compensation, considering what she lost. But I did tell her to find you.” She lowered her voice, “Maybe Myrella and them could help her.”

Anders nodded. “They’ll do the best they can. Thank you, Hawke.”

Relm twisted her fingers around each other, debating whether or not to let the conversation end there. Sometimes, she wondered if Varric was right, and she should tell Anders about what was going on. He’d believe her, at least. _No, now’s not the time._ “Sorry for snapping earlier.”

“I get it. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. The templars have been stepping up these raids, and pushing through with interrogations and trials quickly. Faster than we can keep up with.” He grumbled. “Probably the point.”

No wonder Myrella was getting desperate. Relm understood, though she still couldn’t condone her idea of reaching out to Tevinter. She wished there wasn’t a rift between them. Myrella was someone else she had considered going to about Fenris. As a more neutral party, perhaps Myrella could-

Relm made a noise of surprise as her legs suddenly locked. They felt weighed down by anvils as she struggled to move. “Wha-”

Anders stumbled to a halt. “What is it?”

“I…” Then she felt a horrible, familiar burst of sensation build in her, a feeling that quickly turned to pain. _Oh no. No no, not here! Stop!_ But no amount of coaxing ever stopped an episode from happening. Her body jerked violently as she crashed to the ground, teeth gritted as she bit back a scream.

“Hawke!”

She felt Anders grab her by her shoulders, trying to get her to keep still as her body thrashed. Vaguely she heard Aveline and Varric run over to them.

“Oh, shit. Hawke, stay with us!”

Varric, at least, knew what was going on, but his oath of secrecy bound him from saying anything. Not that it would help anyway; Anders wouldn’t have been able to do anything to end it. Healing magic poured into her, combating the bursts of pain.

“What’s happening?” Aveline demanded.

“I don’t know!” Anders let up on the magic, thinking it wasn’t helping. “I don’t know what’s causing this! Hawke, talk to me!”

Any words she tried to speak got caught in her throat, choked by groans and shrieks of pain. Nails dug into the ground as she tried to find purchase, something to ground her to ride out the pain. Her whole body felt like it was ripping at the seams. Something wanted to burst out of her, and pounded against the confines of its prison. It steadily grew worse, to the point tears were leaking out. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore, and she screamed.

Anders began healing again, and casting a variety of other spells to try and alleviate her pain. She heard Aveline and Varric exchanging hasty words, but couldn’t make them out over the uproar in her mind.

Then, as quickly as it came, the episode subsided. Relm collapsed against the ground, panting heavily. “It – it’s over.”

Anders and Aveline helped her sit up against the wall. She could practically see the questions dancing on their lips, but a chorus of voices down the hall made them pause.

The other half of their group came running towards them. “Is everyone all right?” Sebastian asked as they reached them. “We heard-” His eyes fell on Relm, and they widened in worry. “Hawke! What happened?”

“We’re not sure,” Anders murmured. “She just collapsed, wracked with pain. Nothing I did stopped it. Have you any idea what that was, Hawke?”

She shook her head. “Don’t know. Must have hit a hex or something.”

“But I was walking right alongside of you…”

This was not a line of questioning she wanted to continue. “Look, I don’t know. Maybe it was a poison blade that cut me. It’s over. I just want to finish this and get home.”

“This is not something to take lightly, Hawke,” Fenris cut in, shouldering through the others until he could see her. “Anders should take you back to his clinic and see if he can surmise what happened.”

“As hard as it is to say, and probably believe, I agree. Please let me examine you.”

 _You won’t find anything._ Relm shook her head, struggling to get to her feet. “If something happens again, I’ll come to you.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?” Anders snapped. He leaned in, aiming to keep her from standing up. “Normally I find it charming, but right now it’s just ridiculous. There’s no need-”

“ _I’m fine,_ ” Hawke snarled, pushing past him. She felt a hand reach out to her, but she shoved it away. The tips of metal gauntlets scratched her palm; with a pang of guilt, she realized it was Fenris. “Let’s just go.”

Something slammed against the wall, making them all stop and turn. It turned out to be Aveline’s fist, bunched up in anger. The guard captain rose to her feet. Relm’s blood felt like ice as she met her stare. For all that Meredith was terrifying, Hawke still would have taken her over an angry Aveline any day.

“Hawke, stop it.” The clunk of Aveline’s armor as she moved never sounded so ominous in her life. “Just stop. I’ve had enough. We’ve all kept our mouths shut for too long. You need to start telling us what’s going on.”

“Aveline, I don’t know what caused this-”

“Bullshit!” The word lashed out across the air, like a viper strike. Relm could all but feel the sting. “I’m not just talking about this… whatever it was. You’ve been miserable for _months_. Bags under your eyes, lost weight, looking gaunt like an undead skeleton. Probably haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve seen those sleep draughts around your mansion. And the booze.”

Eighteen months, Relm played a charade of having her life in order. It was one she knew she played badly, but she played it nonetheless. But now, the game was up. She crossed her arms, hoping to keep herself from shaking like a leaf. _Please don’t do this. Please._

“What. Is. Going. On?” Aveline stood squarely in front of her. “We know something’s wrong. Don’t shut us out.”

Relm shook her head. “It’s-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘it’s nothing’. It’s clearly something. What is it?”

“I can’t-”

“Yes you can. Just tell us.”

“There’s nothing that-”

“Damn it, Hawke, why don’t you-”

“ _You can’t help me!”_ The words broke free, leaving Hawke in a shout that even made Aveline take a step back. Relm choked out a sob; she’d said too much. “I need to go. Please just drop it.”

“Damned if I will. You don’t just say that and walk away.”

The walls seemed to close in on her, threatening to suffocate her. The images of her friends swam in front of her, crowding around her, eyes boring into hers. Flight or fight instinct kicked in, and flight won. Hawke spun and used a Fade Step, bursting away from them and zooming down the hall. A cry of her name drifted down after her, but she refused to look back as she fled.

 

* * *

 

Going home wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to be found. Relm instead chose a completely different tavern in Lowtown, rented a room for the night, and bought herself a few bottles of wine to help her sleep through the night.

Naturally, she woke up that morning with quite a hangover. She groaned, casting a healing spell on her head to dull the throbbing as she sat up. A cheap room meant no windows, but she could feel it was early yet. As she swung her feet over the side of her bed, her foot knocked over an empty wine bottle.

Across the room, mounted on the wall was a small looking glass. Relm stared in, and for a moment, she didn’t recognize who was staring back. Aveline was right; the creature she saw in there was but a shadow of her old self: gaunt, exhausted, and battered. Her dark hair hung limply around her face, and the tattoo she had across her cheekbones and nose appeared sunken in.

Her shoulders sagged as she rubbed her hands over her face. There she sat, Champion of Kirkwall, a noble woman who clawed her way to the top, hiding in a seedy tavern, surrounded by booze. Shame burned in her chest. Not for the first time, she found herself staring down at rock bottom. And she knew in that moment, something had to change.

_First step: get home and get changed._

She slunk her way back to Hightown, relieved so few people were out that early in the morning. It meant Bodahn, Sandal and Orana would still be asleep, too. As she snuck back into her mansion, she kept her steps light as she headed to her room, shedding off her dingy clothes and armor and donning fresh clothes.

A low whine snagged her attention. Relm turned and found her mabari in the doorway, head low as he whined again. No one snuck by without his notice.

“Oh, Canis. I’m sorry, boy.” Relm bent down, reaching out to him. He padded over to her, butting his head against her hand. He woofed, low but firm. “I know. I know. There are some things I need to think over. You can come with me, if it’ll make you feel better.” He barked in agreement. After giving him a few scratches on the head, Relm stood. As she debated where to go to do said thinking, she caught sight of her old sketch book, tucked away next to her chest. Once upon a time, she drew to help get her thoughts sorted. It felt like ages since she’d last done it, but perhaps it was time to return to that old hobby.

Picking up the sketchbook, she went to the next blank page and ripped it out (she wouldn’t risk taking the whole book out in public). As she took it out, she realized it was the last page in her sketchbook. Something painful coiled in her chest, but she couldn’t understand what it was and why she felt so sad. _Get a grip._ She grabbed her charcoal, rolled up the paper, and beckoned Canis to follow her.

She wound back through the streets of Hightown, a destination firmly in mind. There was a little known overlook that boasted a view of the expanse of land between the city and Sundermount. Hawke decided to perch there. On top of a broken off side of a discarded crate she picked up along the way, she spread out her paper and began to sketch. Canis stretched out next to her, huffing as he settled in.

Her subject of choice were her friends. She sketched out little caricatures of them. From memory she detailed their features, from Isabela’s jewelry to Merrill’s _vallaslin_ to Varric’s grin. Eventually, of course, she got to Fenris. It was a practiced illustration; she lost count of how many times she’d sketched him, carefully laying out the lines of his face and detailing his markings.

 _I wonder what they’re all doing. What they must be thinking, after last night. I fucked that one up._ She leaned back, taking in their faces. Her usual gambit of running away finally caught up to her. Another confrontation was inevitable. They would demand the truth, and rightly so. And Fenris would be with them. If that happened, she might not be able to lie her way out of it.

Without realizing it, she’d turn over the paper. The blank page stared at her, beckoning her to do something. She put her charcoal to the page. But rather than draw, Relm began to write. She wrote Fenris’ name, and then a comma. Then she went down a line below it. A letter seemed to be forming. Swallowing hard, she poured out her heart through the words she furiously wrote. There was hardly room to detail everything, but she wrote down the most important points, outlining them and explaining why she had done what she’d done in the time she’d known Fenris. It was, in short, the truth laid bare, finally released in some fashion.

Her wrist ached by the time she stopped. It felt almost alarming to see the words written out in front of her, the truth she’d fought so hard to hide. But she needed to get used to it. Because there was no more hiding from this, not if the others were involved.

“Canis, can you find Varric and bring him here? Just Varric. I need to talk to him.”

The mabari got to his feet, leaning in for a head scratch as payment. Relm chuckled, doing as bid. He woofed contentedly before trotting off.

As she waited, she turned over the words she wanted to say in her head, fiddling with the charcoal. If she was going to do this, she would need his help. Varric always had a way of putting things into perspective, and his foreknowledge would help her navigate this treacherous path she faced.

Perhaps an hour or so later, she heard an agitated huff coming from behind her, followed by a curse: sure signs of a certain dwarf entering the area. She turned and smiled as she watched Varric clamber up the steep steps towards the overlook. “Of all the places,” he muttered. He leveled a halfhearted glare at Hawke as he reached the top. “Sure, make the dwarf climb.”

“No worthy secret hiding spot comes without pain.”

“At least it’s got a view,” he conceded as he walked up next to her, followed by Canis. He took a seat, folding his hands together on his stomach. He glanced over. “What’s that?”

“Well, originally I just came out here to draw.” She turned the paper over to show him her sketches. “Haven’t done it much in awhile.”

Varric raised his brow. “Those are pretty good, Hawke. Like, really good. I know you said you drew down what you dreamed about when you were younger, but I didn’t know you got such a knack for it.”

“Not something I talk about.” People would ask to see her drawings, and most of them were about her dreams. So, she kept quiet about her talent, to be safe. Yet another thing she sacrificed to maintain her lie. “It was good to do it again. But then I wound up writing something.” She flipped the paper back over and handed it to Varric. “Guess I just needed to get it off my chest. Or, maybe more like practice.”

As Varric scanned over the letter, he said, “Practice?”

“For when I tell him.”

Varric’s head snapped up. The dwarf rarely wore shock so openly and for long, but this had clearly caught him by surprise. “Seriously?”

Relm nodded. _There, I said it. He knows. Now, he can hold me to it._ “I think I have to. With the others – after last night, I don’t think there’s much avoiding it anymore.” She drew her knees up to her chin, tucking her head against them. “I just don’t know _how_.” Not without drawing his ire, or worse.

“Hawke, look.” Varric scooted closer to her, all seriousness now. “We both know he won’t take it well at first. There’s no getting around that. So what you do, is you talk to him in the evening. Alone. Just come clean, try to explain what you can. When he gets angry and you can’t take it, get out of there. Let him blow off steam.”

“Just like that?”

“No point in you having to listen to whatever he’s gonna say. Not at that point, you know how he gets. While you go to Blondie and he helps you work through it – and maybe you should talk to him before you tell the elf – we’ll let him stew overnight. Then, come morning, I’ll go over and talk with him. Sit him down, tell him the same things I told you when I confronted you last year, and tear down his arguments.” He shrugged. “Not anticipating an easy conversation, but the elf listens to me.”

It seemed like taking the easy way out, but she couldn’t deny how tempting it was. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I’ve been hoping you’d come around. I know you’re scared shitless. But it needs to happen, so I might as well try and lighten the load.” Varric handed the letter back to her. “Talk to Blondie before this happens. If shit really hits the ceiling, he can probably help you better than I could.”

Anders’ reaction almost worried her as much as Fenris’. Perhaps knowing she would be telling him soon would prevent him from doing anything brash. His relationship with Fenris remained tense, at best, and she feared he’d blame her suffering on Fenris. “I just hope he handles it well. You know how Anders gets with this subject.”

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Hawke,” Varric said with a chuckle. “Well, you didn’t pick the elf, but the rest of them.”

“That includes you, you know.”

“I am the exception,” he said with a mock air of haughtiness. Then he laughs again. “More like the shining example of your worst picks.”

Even Hawke chuckled, something she rarely did anymore. _I wouldn’t change it for anything._

She looked down at the letter, trying not to let the words daunt her. She faced an incredible challenge, but now she knew she wouldn’t be doing it alone. As much as she hated dragging Varric into this further, she couldn’t deny she needed his help. “Thank you, Varric. You’ve made this a little less frightening.”

Despite sitting down, he did his best to do a mock bow. “At your service, m’lady Champion.”

This needed to be done, and soon. But there remained one issue. “What about the others? Do you think-”

It came out of nowhere: cold, clammy, overwhelming dread shot down her spine, forming a deep pit in her stomach and leaving her windless. She gasped, both to regain her breath and from the onslaught.

“Hawke?”

She felt this dread before. It was the same alarming feeling that crept up on her that day on the road in Lothering. It was also the same one she felt, and to near disastrous consequences ignored, when Hadriana showed up. But even those moments paled in comparison to the absolute fear that coursed through her. She glanced behind her, almost expecting him to be standing behind her, that malicious grin on his face. 

“Hawke, what is it? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Hawke’s fist bunched tightly in her lap. “No, worse. I feel a monster. _He’s_ here, Varric! Danarius is in bloody Kirkwall!” She scrambled to her feet, folding up her letter and shoving it into the folds of her shirt.

“…Well, shit.”

“Get in touch with your contacts, see if they can find him.” Hawke ordered Canis to go home, making long strides towards the steps leading back down to Hightown.

“I will, but where are _you_ going?”

“To find Fenris!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeee's heeeeeeerrrrrreeeee.
> 
> Buckle up, buttercups. This is when things are gonna start getting FUN. See you all next chapter!


	33. The Only Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Danarius in the city, Relm decides to act preemptively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lengthy chapter for you all. Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: gdit I forgot warnings again. I haven't had to use them in awhile. But uh, remember all that awful shit Fenris went through in Chapter 3? the creepy magisters, that unspeakable thing Danarius did to him? That's gonna get brought up again, so warning for that awfulness

Panic spurred Relm through Hightown. She ignored the looks of confused bystanders and merchants as she tore through the market square. Her mind sped along with her, racing to come up with plans to every scenario she could conceive of. Worst case, Danarius had Fenris, and she would need to act quickly. She had no armor or weapon – besides her own magic – but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to fight. At best, Fenris would be oblivious and then she’d have to come up with some reason as to why she was about to burst into his mansion without invitation or warning.

Panting, she pushed open his door as slowly as she could manage. If the monster was there, she didn’t want to announce herself. She crept inside, trying to slow her breathing so she could hear over her thundering heart. Voices drifted from upstairs; her muscles bunched in anticipation.

But as she stalked towards the stairs, she began to make out the voices, and none of them were Danarius’. To her surprise, she heard Aveline say, “An elf matching your description, on the ship you named. And alone, as far as I could tell.”

She heard hands slamming against a table. “I need to know if it’s a trap!”

“I did what you asked, Fenris. Now it’s up to you.”

From the master bedroom, she saw a shadow move towards the door. Relm quickly ducked into one of the other rooms to avoid Aveline. Holding her breath, she waited as she listened for Aveline’s heavy footsteps to pass by, and then recede. She didn’t dare move until she heard the front door close. Letting out her held breath, she stepped out into the main hall, eyes on the entryway to Fenris’ room.

 _He’s expecting someone, but not Danarius._ At least Fenris was safe, for the time being, but that wouldn’t last. Girding herself, she climbed the stairs and entered his room.

Fenris stared hard down at the table, fingers drumming in a staccato rhythm against it. He didn’t look up, only saying, “Do you have more?”

“More?”

His head lifted up, and his brow with it. “I thought you were… nevermind.” Wary but worried, he approached her. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“This wasn’t, ah, planned.” Relm rubbed the back of her head. “I came to talk to you about something, but when I came in, I overheard the last bit of your conversation with Aveline. Is everything all right?”

Fenris sighed. “It’s my sister. I didn’t tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana’s information.” He began to pace in front of the table. “Everything she said was true. I had to keep it quiet, but I eventually contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come meet me. And now she’s here.”

It stung that he hid it from her, but she understood. She wished she could have helped, but this was his battle. “You managed to find her in Qarinus?”

Fenris explained that she had left the city, and he had to track her down in Minrathous, where she worked as a tailor. “Getting a letter to her was difficult, and she didn’t believe me at first… but she’s finally come.”

 _But not alone._ Somehow, Danarius had escaped Aveline’s notice. Relm desperately wished this was going to be a happy reunion, but knowing that Danarius was in the city as well, she doubted it. It was possible he followed Varania without her knowledge, but things rarely worked out so kindly. “And you’re worried it might be too good to be true?”

“I’ve heard nothing from Danarius in a long time. Too long.” Fenris turned towards her, wearing that same pleading look from the first night they met, when he asked her to confront Danarius with him. “Come with me, Hawke. I need you there when I meet her.”

“Are you sure?”

He dipped his head, his eyes hidden behind his bangs. His ears drooped. “It would mean a lot to me.” He peeked out from behind his hair. “That’s all I ask.”

 _Like I can say no to that._ “Then I’ll be there. Where are you meeting her?”

“I had suggested the Hanged Man, but she preferred to meet elsewhere. She’s staying at another tavern in Lowtown called the Watering Hole. It’s the one by the docks.”

“I see its proprietor has less of a knack for creative names than the Hanged Man’s.”

She smiled when Fenris snorted. All the while, guilt gnawed at her. She knew she should warn him, but how was she going to explain how she knew? _I need to get back to Varric and hash this out first._

“What… were you going to speak with me about?”

“Oh. Um, well…” Relm fidgeted. “I wanted to apologize about last night, mostly.” She sighed. “I know I owe more than that, and… I do plan on talking to you about some things related to that. But, with your sister here, it should wait. Once you’ve talked with her and sort that out, then we can.”

“And the others?”

“Them, too, eventually. I know I’ve worried everyone, and I’m sorry. I know I can’t pretend everything’s all right anymore.”

“Why were you pretending? What isn’t all right?”

Relm just shook her head. “That’s what I’ll talk about later. I need to get my thoughts sorted, and you really should focus on Varania. I’m not going to add to your worries right now.” And Danarius would only worsen things. “Are you meeting her tomorrow?”

“Yes, but I will tell you more of it tonight.” He paused, brow furrowed. “You _are_ coming tonight, no?”

 _Shit, I forgot about our Wicked Grace night. Well, that’s going to make things awkward with the others. Let’s hope him talking about Varania will keep them occupied._ Realizing she’d been quiet for a beat too long, she quickly said, “Ah, yes. Maybe not for the whole time, but I’ll be there. I promise.” For his sake if nothing else.

 

* * *

 

As much as she feared leaving him alone, Relm knew she had to. She reassured herself that Fenris was cautious. Years of slavery, compounded by his time on the run embedded constant vigilance into his psyche.

Relm resisted the urge to go immediately to Varric. She knew she needed to give his contacts time to turn up information. But if Fenris was meeting Varania tomorrow, then the clock was against them. She waited until the afternoon crawled in before her impatience won out and she tracked him down to his room at the Hanged Man.

Varric had only to look up from his desk before saying, “Haven’t found much, except for one saying that he thought he saw some men in Tevinter regalia speaking with the port master.”

“Damn it.” Relm resisted the urge to kick the wall. “Bastard’s snuck in. He even escaped Aveline’s notice.”

“What does she have to do with this?”

Relm explained to Varric what she overheard at Fenris’ mansion, and her subsequent conversation with him. “It’s no coincidence that she’s here. I don’t think that feeling came from her. It has to be him.”

“So, either Varania was unwittingly tailed by Danarius, or she’s about to stab her brother in the back.” Varric groaned. “Great. As if the elf doesn’t have enough trust issues.”

“I really hope she didn’t know, but we know nothing ever works out that nicely.” Relm leaned against the wall, desperately wishing she could spare Fenris from the storm ahead. “My plans to tell him the truth are going to have to be shelved. There’s no way I can drop that on him right now.”

“I hate to agree, but yeah, he’s gonna need some time after this shitstorm. So, what’s the plan?”

Right now, they had no proof beyond her own gut feeling that Danarius was in the city. That put a wrench in the works. “I suppose we could just say your contacts did manage to find out that he’s here, and we tell him tonight, but… he’s going to want to know why they were looking to begin with. And if it were that obvious he’s here, then Aveline would have known. It raises too many questions, and frankly, we have no proof.”

“That certainly does present a problem. But can we really let him walk into an ambush tomorrow?”

They could wait and hope Varric’s contacts found him, but that put them at risk, and there was no guarantee they’d find Danarius before tomorrow. To Relm, it left only one option. “I’ll have to sniff him out myself.”

Varric blinked once, then twice, as if unable to believe what he just heard. Which, given his “Are you _crazy_?” was probably the case.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Varric,” she said dryly.

“As much as it pains me, I’m being serious! You’re no rogue. There are countless ways this could go tits up.”

“I’ll be fine. Your contacts might not have any luck, and we can’t afford to wait around for proof.” Her decision made, Relm pushed off the wall and headed for the door. “I’ll be back tonight for the game.”

“Who says _you’ll_ have any more luck?”

“Trouble always finds me, Varric. Besides, better me than your contacts brush up against that kind of danger.”

“What are you even gonna tell him if you do find proof?”

 _Good question._ “I’ll… think of something.”

“Oh yes. You, the viscountess supreme of liars.”

“Appreciate the faith, Varric,” she shot back as she pushed open the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

As she ducked out into the hall, Varric called out after her, “For the love of the Maker, don’t get caught, Hawke!”

 

* * *

 

Hawke knew the docks were the place to start. She paid a visit to the port master, and after some charming, cajoling, and eventually hitting him with her title and a boot to the knee that landed him on the floor, he blabbed about his exchange with the Tevinter soldiers.

“Yes, they came with a magister!” he hissed. “Didn’t say his name, just told me to keep it real – ow, let up! – real quiet. Off the books and all.”

“Are they staying at the Watering Hole?”

“Didn’t say, didn’t ask.” When Relm dug her foot in further, he cursed and said, “It’d be my best guess, though! Oh, oh!” He waved his arm at her. “Saw them loitering around by the west docks. Dunno if they’re still there, but they might have been unloading still.”

“Now _that’s_ useful. Thank you.” She lifted her foot, letting the man clutch his knee. “Now be smart and keep quiet about this. They may be here in passing, but I’ll be around awhile.”

Leaving the port master to tend to his wounded knee, Relm headed for the west end of the docks, her pace slowing and her gaze probing the further she went. She took deep breaths, trying to remain – and look – calm. Drawing attention to herself would be a disaster. She pretended to browse at stalls, admiring their wares, but all the while, looking and listening for her targets.

Just when she began to wonder if they had moved on, the lilt of a Tevene curse caught her attention. From the corner of her eye, as she perused a fish stand, she noticed a pair of men squabbling about something, before they turned and left in a huff. She hung back for a moment before following them, making sure to stay out of sight.

They unwittingly led her towards a warehouse, just one of many unremarkable buildings that lined the docks. Relm ducked behind some crates, watching the men as they approached the building. The door opened, and another guard scoffed, rolling his eyes at them before beckoning them inside.

_That must be it. Is that where they’re unloading? How long does Danarius plan on staying in Kirkwall?_

Relm snuck around to the back of the warehouse, doing her best to keep her steps light. She wove her way around crates and ropes as she clambered to find a way into the warehouse. A small, open window caught her eye. Climbing on top of some crates, she looked around to check if the coast was clear before hopping up, fingers digging into the lip as she fought to pull herself up. She grunted as she cleared it, sliding her way in. Her attempt to land quietly failed when she pulled her legs in, only to lose her grip and crash onto the floor. She scrambled to her feet and hid behind some barrels, eyes and ears alert for any signs of guards.

As the minutes passed, and she heard nothing but distant chatter, Hawke felt safe enough to venture out. Upon a quick inspection, she realized she was in a side room, full of discarded storage. Safe from view, but difficult to listen in on anything. Drawing a steadying breath, Relm cautiously peeked out from the room. To her right, guards milled on the far side of the hall, their backs turned to her. Seizing the chance, she darted out from her spot. Her destination was a pile of cargo up ahead, tucked back towards a corner but still providing a vantage point of the main room. She scurried across, praying no one else saw her as she hid behind the cargo. She went still, again listening for any signs of someone having noticed her. When she heard nothing, she peered around a crate. _Now, I need to get a rough count of-_

“Is there a reason for this delay?”

The whole room fell silent, everyone’s – including Relm’s – attention turned towards the source of the slithering, well-spoken voice. From the entrance strode in a man wearing traditional Tevinter robes, pale eyes cold and searching.

Relm’s blood froze at the sight of him. She knew that face and that voice; it haunted her dreams for years. _And there’s the monster himself, in the flesh._ After all that time, she finally saw him with her own eyes. She noted Danarius had aged a fair bit since she’d last seen him.

Trailing behind him was a contingent of slaves. Following behind them was an elven woman with red hair, arms crossed nervously. Relm almost gasped as she recognized the hair and green eyes, the same color as Fenris’.

 _How could she do this to him?_ Relm seethed quietly. What hope she had that Varania had been tailed unawares shattered as she saw Danarius turn and address the elf, his tone curt and dismissive. Relm ducked down behind the cargo, grimacing as she wondered how she was going to break this to Fenris. It was going to devastate him, but he had to know. First things first, she needed to get a headcount or at least rough estimation of Danarius’ forces before she-

“We have a rat.”

Relm spun around. A guard loomed above her. The last thing she saw was the blunt end of a weapon flying at her before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

The first conscious thought she registered was pain. Relm grabbed her throbbing head as she came to. Her limbs scraped against a hard wooden floor as she shifted. Her back felt light; she realized after a moment that her weapon was gone. _Oh shit._

Hesitantly, Relm opened her eyes. She was no longer in the warehouse, but in a small room, surrounded by Tevinter-garbed warriors. Towards the back, she briefly caught sight of Varania, surrounded by armed men. Someone stepped in front of her line of sight, his feet covered by fine silken robes.

“Ah, our little guest wakes up at last,” Danarius said as he looked down on her.

 _Oh double fucking shit._ Fighting through the headache, Relm craned her neck to look up.

Danarius cocked a brow at her. “I thought someplace a bit cozier would be more conducive for our talk. I do want to know why you were sneaking around the warehouse like a thief.”

 _Lie. Lie through your teeth._ Relm shifted, forcing herself into a sitting position. “I was investigating.”

“What, precisely?”

“A rumor that a Tevinter magister had arrived with a force of men at his beck.” Relm leveled a cold glare at him. Being so up close and personal with him, with his voice in her ear, made her skin crawl. “Last time a foreigner came with a contingent of armed people, we got attacked. I wanted to take a pre-emptive approach this time around.”

Danarius tutted. “I would have happily reassured the proper authorities that I am merely here for a short stay! Recovering missing property, as it were.”

It took everything Relm had not to jump up and throttle him. “Same thing the Qunari said, funnily enough.”

His smile fell a bit. “And what makes you qualified to be doing any investigating? You are no templar or city guard.”

“I’m the Champion of Kirkwall. Relm Hawke.” She lifted her chin. “Feel free to confirm this with Knight-Commander Meredith or the Grand Cleric. I understand your caution, but I meant no harm, either.” _Not yet._ “If we can put this misunderstanding behind us, then I can report what you said and you can be on your way.”

Danarius seemed surprised for a moment. Relm hoped it meant he realized his error and would let her go. However, once his surprise faded, his smile merely grew. It was the same smile he wore the day Fenris won the tournament that he used to buy his family’s freedom. Hawke felt dread settle heavily in her stomach.

“Relm Hawke. My, I didn’t expect to meet you quite this way.” Danarius turned and motioned to a guard, murmuring something in Tevene. The guard nodded before ducking out of the room. As the magister turned his attention to Relm, he continued, “Normally I would agree with you, but I must insist you stay. I’ve been wanting to meet you, after all.”

Her muscles bunched in panic. “Meet me? Why?”

“An acquaintance of yours told me about you. I’m so eager to get to know you.” Danarius reached down to touch Relm’s chin. She jerked her head away. He growled and grabbed it forcefully, yanking her back to him. “After all, my little pet doesn’t make friends easily, and you’re quite a special one to him, aren’t you?”

“Wha-” Relm’s mind spun in turmoil, trying to discern how he knew about her relationship with Fenris, or how he even knew that she knew him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not-”

The door opened, the guard from earlier returning. Relm leaned around Danarius to see. For a moment, the door hung open, its threshold empty. Varania glanced at the door, then back at Relm. She was quiet but expectant, looking at her for a reaction. Then, someone hesitantly stepped into the room. It was someone Hawke hadn’t spoken to in awhile, not since their fight weeks ago that rendered their friendship moot.

As she came forward, Myrella sighed. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Hawke.”

Terror mixed with rage leapt up Hawke’s throat, culminating in a shout. “ _What_ did you tell him, you-”

“Ah ah, come now.” Danarius jerked her head to the side, fingers digging into her skin. “Poor Myrella needed my assistance. You told her about Fenris, and she did the responsible thing and sought out his master.”

“We need Tevinter’s help,” Myrella cut in. “Most there turned me away. After you told me about your friend, I contacted by sources in the Imperium. They pointed me to Danarius. He’s willing to help in exchange for Fenris’ return.”

“I told you about him to warn you why going to Tevinter was a stupid idea! And so you then and went and sold him out? For some fucking _coin_?”

“And support! We are in dire straits!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Relm snapped. “Maker help me, I’m going to kill you when I get the chance.”

Myrella drew herself up straight, snorting coldly. She glanced at Danarius. “You’ll see I was right.”

“Indeed. But I wonder if the other tidbit you told me is true.” Danarius studied Relm. “There’s a certain… tenacity in their expression that they share.” An unsettling smile spread across his face. Relm knew that one, too, from a memory of Fenris’ that haunted her the most out of them all. She recoiled from him.

At least Myrella had the decency to look disgusted, too, even if for a moment. But she composed herself and nodded. “They’re mates, make no mistake.”

The words hit Relm like an undercut to her stomach. Eyes wide and mouth agape, she turned to Myrella. “What in the Maker’s name gave you that idea?” At least she was well versed in lying about this particular subject. “I never told you _anything_ concerning-”

“You didn’t have to. Remember how I told you I had my ways of finding out about people’s mates?” Myrella’s expression was distant as she explained, “People keep such things secret. But the spirits don’t. All it takes is finding the right one. Yours opened up to me quite easily.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Told me everything I needed to know, thinking I was going to help you. ‘Little bird’, right?”

Relm had never known such terror. It robbed her of movement and speech. Not only did Danarius know that she was friends with Fenris, but now he had knowledge of her greatest secret. And she had no doubt that he planned on using that against Fenris when the time came.

Whether it took seconds or an eternity, after staring at Myrella in shock, all-consuming rage swept through Relm like a tidal wave, drowning out her terror. With a roar she broke free of Danarius and lunged at Myrella. Flames engulfed her hands as she grabbed Myrella’s throat. The other woman screamed, and the two fought and struggled until they were pulled apart.

The guards yanked Hawke off of Myrella. Relm screeched and thrashed against them, firing off a shot of lightning at Myrella. It connected and knocked her flat against the far wall.

“Enough!” Danarius grabbed Relm’s shoulders and threw her back. Before she could regain her footing, he summoned a spell, a glyph appearing in front of his hands before he released it. The spell tore through Relm, sending searing strands of pain through her as she collapsed into a heap on the ground. Whatever he did to her, it also prevented her from getting up.

“That answers that question.” To add insult to injury, Danarius shoved his foot down on Hawke’s back, pinning her in place. “How precious that he found you. But that makes you a liability. However, I think you’ll be of use still. He’ll come to meet Varania tomorrow, but your presence will ensure his cooperation.”

“He doesn’t even know!” Relm spat. “It won’t work.”

“Then perhaps it’s time he found out then, hm? And if he remains unsure tomorrow, even after we tell him, I think we’ll find a way to convince him.” Danarius reared back and kicked her in the side. Relm bit back a yell. “Now, be good and stay quiet down here. You’ll get to see your mate tomorrow. It’ll be a joyous reunion all around.”

He strode away, leaving Relm in a crumbled pile on the floor as he spoke to Myrella, leading her out of the room. The guards followed after him. Varania was herded out, the elven woman glancing back at Relm before she was forced out. The last guard shut and locked the door behind them.

A sob tore out of Relm as she clutched her side. “No… Oh Maker please no.” She curled up into herself, trying desperately to fight back tears. Her plan to help Fenris backfired. Now, he was even more at risk, and her secret to be used as a weapon against him.

_And it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, Fenris._

 

* * *

 

Relm hardly knew how much time had passed, trapped in that windowless room. She managed to get herself upright, and was currently leaning against a discarded stack of crates. Whatever Danarius did still left her weakened. She read the name of a distiller on the side of them. In fact, the whole room had nothing but empty crates and barrels, previously filled with alcohol of some sort. She considered seeing if some were left at the bottom of any of those barrels.

A lock unlatching caught her attention. She tensed as the door creaked open, her fists bunching. However, instead of Danarius or Myrella or even some guard, it was Varania who quietly stepped inside, a plate of food in hand. She shut the door behind her.

“What do you want?” Relm snarled.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Varania said, walking over to the far side of the room where Relm was, setting the plate down.

Relm uneasily eyed the food, wondering if it was poisoned. As Varania stepped back, she bit out, “Why do you care if I eat?”

The elf sighed, rubbing her hands on her skirt. “…this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

“And how _was_ it supposed to happen, Varania?” Relm said. “Just you, Danarius, and your brother? Selling him out for… what? What did Danarius promise _you_?”

“An apprenticeship.”

Mana surged through Relm. She fought hard to not launch a fireball at Varania’s head. “You sold your only brother out to be an apprentice to that slithering sack of magisterial shit?”

“You don’t understand how hard it’s been since we were freed! Our mother died, and I’ve been left alone to survive with nothing to my name!”

“He freed you from slavery, and this is how you thank him?” Relm’s fist slammed against the wall. “How could you? After everything he did for you and your mother?”

“What he did for us was no favor! You have no idea what we’ve been through since… we…”

Varania tapered off as she looked at Relm and saw her face. Slowly and deliberately, Hawke rose to her feet. “What _you’ve_ been through?” she whispered, seething and churning with barely contained fury. “Do you have _any_ idea what Danarius did to your brother over the years?”

“I haven’t heard, but-”

“Well, I do.” She took a step towards Varania, her voice low but underlined with wrath. “I know what happened to him. I saw what happened to him. I heard it, and tasted it, and _felt it._ ” Another step. “I felt it when that lyrium went into his skin, and I can still remember the smell of his flesh burning, and how his screams rang off the walls. I felt it when Danarius’ friends would run their fingers over him like he was a prize pet, and how they ogled him. I felt it when Danarius would yank that chain around his neck. Did you know that? He wore a collar around his neck, like a dog, pulled around at Danarius’ whim.” She took another step, even as Varania retreated. “And I felt it when Danarius forced himself on your brother, and how Fenris pleaded with him to stop but he wouldn’t. Danarius kept telling him how dear and precious he was to him, even as he pounded into him, over and over and over again.” Hawke didn’t even realize she was shaking. “I saw and heard and felt years’ worth of pain and misery, all begotten for you sake, so don’t you fucking stand there and tell _me_ how hard _you’ve_ had it!”

A tense, powerful silence filled the room, as Hawke stood there, still trembling with emotion, and as Varania looked away, shame-faced. The elf clutched her sleeve, fidgeting uncomfortably before finally saying, “What do you want me to say? I can’t take back what I did. He’s here now.”

“You can still make this right. Warn Fenris.”

“How?” Varania said in a harsh whisper, mindful of possible eavesdropping ears on the other side of the door. “I can’t just stroll out into Kirkwall! I don’t even know where he is!”

“You have to try. Get to Lowtown, to the Hanged Man. Ask for Varric. They’re all supposed to be there tonight.” Her absence was going to be noticed. In fact, as she thought about it, Varric would likely begin to piece together what had happened.

Clearly torn, Varania began to pace: a habit she shared with her brother, it seemed. “Even if I did manage to get out, and I did tell him, it won’t change it. He’ll come if he knows Danarius has you. That’s the whole point.”

There was no avoiding the confrontation now. But at least Fenris and the others could go in prepared. “But he’ll have a chance if he’s warned. Fenris doesn’t know about – about the soul mate thing. I never told him. I can’t let him find out from Danarius.” She had already been planning on telling him, but now it was going to happen no matter what. The question was how it was going to play out, and she’d rather die than let it come from Danarius.

“You want me to _tell_ him that? Would he even believe me?”

Relm felt awful. He deserved to hear it from-

Her head snapped up. _The letter._ She dug into her shirt, pulling out the impromptu letter she wrote earlier that day. It had only been meant as a way to vent, but now, it might be the only way she could reach him. “Give him this.” She held the letter out to Varania. “It… everything’s in there. You’re right; tomorrow’s unavoidable, but at least he’ll have a better chance. This needs to come from me. If you want to make this as right as you can, to be the sister he needs, get this to him.”

Varania hesitated, glancing away nervously. As she faltered, Relm pushed the letter towards her again. “ _Please._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Will Varania grow a conscience and do the right thing? Will she balk? Is Fenris finally going to find out the truth? Stay tuned for the next chapter!! Thanks again everyone for reading!


	34. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris' world gets turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Hawke being stuck in a dinky storage room for the foreseeable future, we're going to switch to Fenris' POV for a bit. A number of you have been clamoring for it, and luckily, that was always the plan. So, enjoy being in Fenris' head!

_She was supposed to help._

The voice, pleading and remorseful, came to him in the darkness.

_But she took what I gave and led the monster here._

“Monster” brought back a memory of that sickening smile, of the collar pulling around his throat.

_The monster waits. Be careful, little wolf. He knows you’ll come. Wolves always come for their mates._

 

* * *

 

Fenris jerked awake, muscles coiled and his mind alert. His eyes darted around the room, searching the shadows. When only the dying crackle of the fire in the fire place greeted him, he relaxed. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Sleep usually eluded him.

He sat up in the chair he’d unexpectedly napped in, running his hands through his hair. He’d felt unsettled all day, and now the feeling had amplified. He stood up and paced, trying to shake off the vestiges of that dream, if it could be called that. It felt too real, much like the panic still coursing through him. He wondered if his nerves over tomorrow’s meeting with Varania were getting to him.

But as he tried to rationalize and talk himself down, the nagging fear persisted. The words he heard echoed in his mind. _This is ridiculous. If I were a mage, I’d say it was a demon trying to reach out, but I’m not. Was it some kind of trick? Why bother?_ Yet, something in him told him that this wasn’t a matter to be shrugged off. Something was very wrong.

_‘Wolves always come for their mates’. What was that about?_

A sharp pang of want echoed alongside his fear. That, at least, was familiar. Often it came out of nowhere, and he’d have to yet again fight off the urge to go see Hawke. But, as he thought about her, the fear sharpened, making his heart race. Something inside tugged at him to go see her, _now_. Fenris scoffed, wondering yet again why he so often had these urges. True, being near her settled him, made him feel at peace. But there was something else to it tonight.

_She did say she was coming tonight. I’ll see her then, and perhaps finally this uneasiness will pass._ He glanced at the window, noting how low the sun was getting. The others would be getting to the Hanged Man soon. He walked over to his sword and swung it onto his back before heading out.

As he left his mansion, his thoughts wheeled back to Hawke, as they so often did. He still wondered what she wanted to speak with him about. No doubt it had something to do with Carver’s cryptic words from their conversation last month. He’d told Fenris he would have to act, but now it seemed that Hawke was exceeding Carver’s expectations and taking the first step. Which was good, because Fenris still had no idea what was going on with her. He still found it hard to believe their breakup was the cause of her misery these past eighteen months, though Carver implied there was more to it than that. _But what?_

Then again, perhaps he was being hypocritical. It wasn’t as if he had been carrying on with a slew of lovers. Most days, he battled with himself over crawling back to Hawke and begging for her forgiveness. Yet that same weakness kept him from doing so. To him, she deserved better. How could he offer her anything, when he had nothing to his name, and not even a past to speak of? But Carver’s words spurred him to do something about the latter issue, and thus his meeting with Varania tomorrow.

Now if only he could do something about Danarius…

He suppressed a shudder as he pressed on into Lowtown. Once he spoke to Varania and got some questions answered, he hoped Hawke would open up about what was plaguing her. A voice in the back of his mind cruelly reminded him that he always ran from his own problems; how could he expect to help Hawke with hers? He pushed the voice back. Hawke had expressed a desire to speak with him, and he would not deny her.

The garish sign hanging off the Hanged Man was a welcome sight. Drunken hollers and conversations drifted through the door before Fenris even entered. His nose scrunched at the smell, though in a way, it’d become something of a comfort over the years he’d been patronizing the place.

As he stepped inside, he immediately saw the others gathered towards the back. Oddly, they weren’t sitting at a table, but standing around near the stairs. He noticed Hawke and Varric were missing. His worry spiked again. _She promised she’d be here._

Aveline spotted him and waved him over. Fenris approached, glancing between everyone’s faces as he joined their loose semi-circle. “What is it?”

“Varric asked us to wait here,” Aveline explained. “We were waiting for a table to open. Before we could grab one, an elven woman came and asked to speak to him privately. Said it was urgent. They’ve been in his suite ever since.”

“And you don’t know who she was?”

They all shook their heads. “It’s very strange,” Sebastian added. “It appeared she had a letter in her hands.”

A curious thing, Fenris admitted, but his mind was elsewhere. “Where is Hawke?”

“Not sure,” Aveline said. “Probably not coming, though, after what happened the other night. She’s been avoiding us.”

“She spoke to me earlier today. I told her about Varania, and wished to discuss it further here. She promised she’d come tonight.”

“Varania?” Merrill looked confused a moment before she remembered. “Oh, isn’t that your sister?”

Fenris sighed; he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Merrill. “Yes. She is in Kirkwall.”

Sebastian lifted his brow in surprise. “So you did reach out to her? And she came?”

Fenris nodded. “It took some convincing, but yes, she came earlier today. I had asked Hawke to come with me tomorrow when I meet her. I-”

One of the tavern workers popped her head around the corner upstairs, shouting down to them. “You lot know Varric?”

They all turned, with Aveline answering, “Yes.”

“He wants you in his suite right away.”

A quiet, tense moment passed between the friends. Nothing was said as they began to climb the stairs: the silence spoke their worry. Isabela finally broke the tension with, “So, I’m going to wager that we’re not getting drunk tonight.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Fenris muttered. Something was very, very wrong. Nothing he told himself quashed the fear, and he began to consider that maybe there _was_ something to it.

Aveline entered the suite first, arms crossed as the others filed in behind her. Fenris stepped around Sebastian to get a look. His stomach just about dropped to the floor when he saw who was standing next to Varric.

“Varania?” Despite not having seen her in years, and having forgotten her, he knew it was her. She shared the same eyes as him, and something about her demeanor felt familiar.

“It really is you,” she said. She glanced down at the floor, her expression guilt-ridden.

“Why are you looking like that? Why are you even here?”

Varric, seated at his dining table, held up a folded piece of paper in his hands. He glanced over at Varania, his mouth set into a grim line. “You want to tell your brother what you did, or shall I?”

Fenris heard the door close behind them. The room fell silent as everyone waited for Varania to speak. She inhaled a deep breath, looking up at Fenris before she said, “I came to warn you. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I’m here to try and make it as right as I can.”

Worry turned to cold dread. “What did you do?” Fenris said, voice low and threatening.

“I didn’t come to Kirkwall alone.”

“What?” Aveline said in disbelief. “I checked your ship’s manifesto. You were the only passenger.”

“On that ship, yes. But it was not the only ship that came from the Imperium.” Varania’s shoulders sagged.

She didn’t have to spell it out. Fenris already knew what she meant. “You led _him_ here?” he snarled, recoiling back from her. His hand itched to reach for his sword.

“He approached me and offered to make me his apprentice. But it was only after he-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” He felt like a fool, believing that he could finally reclaim his past. Magic truly had tainted everything in his life. Danarius robbed him of what little he thought he had left. “Leave. And take Danarius with you.”

Varric sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Fenris snapped.

Varric closed his eyes a moment, fingers pressing into his forehead. “Because he has Hawke.”

And that cold dread escalated into blinding terror. Amid a backdrop of gasps and exclamations, Fenris remained immobilized. Never in his life had he felt so afraid. To know Danarius was in the city was one thing, but the thought of him holding Hawke prisoner compounded everything. Somehow he had known when he woke up earlier, and now the fear had words. _‘The monster waits. He knows you’ll come.’_

“Elf.” Varric snapped him out of his terror, if only minutely, but enough to draw his attention back to his surroundings.

The icy terror melted just enough to allow Fenris the power to speak again. He pinned Varania with his stare. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“She was caught in the warehouse where they were unloading. She was -”

“That makes no sense. Why was she even there to begin with?”

“I…”

Varric cut in with, “We’ll… get to that part later. From what Varania told me, Danarius knows about you and Hawke, so he’s keeping her prisoner as a means to bludgeon you into cooperation tomorrow when he inevitably springs a trap on you.”

The worst part was, it would work. Hawke was the perfect means of coercing Fenris into whatever Danarius wanted; the very thought of it made Fenris’ lyrium markings flash before he corralled his rage. He jerked away from them, turning his back so he could try and make sense of this. “And how did he know about that? I told Varania nothing about Hawke.” _Spies? Has he been watching this whole time?_

Varania jumped back in with, “It was from that woman he was corresponding with. Danarius knew you were in Kirkwall, but this woman offered him a means to get to you. Her name is Myrella.”

As Fenris spun around, he saw Anders raise his head in surprise. “Wait, Myrella?” the mage said. “She’s involved in this?”

Varania nodded. “I’m not sure why, but she sought the help of the magisters. Apparently Hawke had tried to talk her out of it. At some point, she must have mentioned my brother. I think she meant to use him as an example to show why Myrella’s idea was a bad one, but instead, Myrella reached out to her sources in the Imperium, and that’s how she found Danarius.” She glanced at Fenris, nervous but unwavering as she continued, “At some point, he discovered you were writing to me. That’s when he approached me.”

Fenris cared little for those details right now. His thoughts kept spinning around Hawke, trapped and within Danarius’ reach. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream. But more than that, he wanted her in his arms, safe and far away from his old master.

Anders let out a long, exhausted sigh. He dragged his fingers over his face. “I can’t believe she actually did it. Maker preserve me. Never thought she would, let alone betray Hawke while doing it.”

“How does Hawke know her?” Varric asked.

“Myrella leads those who have been fighting against Meredith’s, and in general Kirkwall’s anti-soul mate campaign. Hawke provided funds for a while until she and Myrella got into that argument. They stopped talking after that.” He snorted humorlessly. “Everyone thought it a foolhardy idea, and honestly didn’t think she’d have any luck.”

What little restraint Fenris managed on his rage broke. His markings flashed, and only because Aveline stepped in front of him was he stopped from lunging at Anders. “You _knew_ this woman was reaching out to the magisters, and no one _stopped her_?”

“I just said we didn’t think she’d have any luck!” Anders argued. “If we had any idea she had managed to hook one, we’d have stepped in!”

“Enough!” Aveline snapped. “There’s no changing it now. We need to get Hawke out of there.” She acted every bit the guard captain she was as she calmly addressed Varania. “Is there anything else you can tell us? There are holes in your story.”

“Yes, there are, and there’s… an explanation for them.” She gestured to the letter in Varric’s hands. “Hawke asked me to deliver that letter. It explains the rest. But I can’t linger any longer. I’ve already been gone too long.”

“Yeah, you better go,” Varric said, rubbing his forehead. “If you get caught, there’s no telling what Danarius is gonna do.”

She nodded before walking towards the door. She paused as she reached for the handle, glancing back at her brother. “I’m sorry.”

Fenris refused to meet her gaze. “Get out.”

When the door closed behind Varania, Varric sagged into his chair. “Oh, boy.”

“This is a disaster.” Aveline leaned on both hands against the table.

Countless questions battered Fenris’ mind, but one stuck out the most. “Varric, what was she doing in that warehouse? Alone?”

Varric met Fenris’ stare. The dwarf seemed to age beyond his years in that moment. He held out the letter to Fenris. “Read this first.”

Fenris stepped over to Varric. Something akin to vertigo swept over him as he reached out for the letter. His emotions swung wildly back and forth between terror, dread, suspense and a yearning that he could not name. A part of him feared what it would say, but deep down, he knew he needed to read it. He nervously licked his lips as he took the letter in hand. The side facing him was riddled with doodles. He recognized himself and the others.

“Our Champion is apparently quite the artist,” Varric explained. “But it’s what’s on the flip side that concerns you.”

Fenris nodded. But as he went to flip the paper over, Varric slapped his hand on top to stop him. The dwarf shook his head. “Not here. You can go into my bedroom and read it. Shut the door; you’ll want some privacy. Also, I recommend sitting down.” When Fenris looked unconvinced, Varric sighed. “Trust me on this one.”

Relenting, Fenris kept his head down, captivated by the drawings and the mystery of what was on the other side of them as he headed into Varric’s room. Before he closed the door behind him, he heard Varric say, “Everyone gather ‘round. You’re about to hear what’s been going on with Hawke.”

The words left Fenris with an ominous feeling as he shut the door. _So this will be what Hawke was going to speak with me about?_ As he sat down on Varric’s bed (as awkward as it felt, there were no other places to sit), he swallowed his nerves and turned over the letter. He let out a shuddering breath before he held it up and began to read.

 

_Fenris,_

_There’s something I’ve been hiding from you, ever since we met. My greatest fear is losing you, but I must come to accept that it probably will happen. But there’s no hiding this from you anymore._

_Remember that conversation we had about soul mates? You asked me about being a dreamer, and I said I wasn’t? Well, I lied. I was one. For almost twenty years, a few times a month, I found myself in another’s mind, seeing his life through his eyes. I saw him spend happy, if not hard, days with his mother and sister. They were slaves, I learned much later. One day he decided to free his mother and sister by fighting in a tournament. The prize was anything the victor wished for. He won, and they were freed. But it came at a terrible cost. He was subjected to an awful ritual, one that permanently marked him and robbed him of his memories. And I watched as he was submitted to a monster’s control. That monster made him do and see horrible things. That monster ridiculed and belittled him. That monster did unspeakable things to him. Those years were awful, and he and I lost a lot of sleep. It became impossible to endure those dreams, so I did the only thing I could think to do: I began to prepare to go to Tevinter and save him. Foolish, maybe, but I had to try. But in the end, it didn’t matter. He escaped. For a time, a tribe of Seheron warriors took him in, and I saw him flourish in their care. He was happy… until the monster returned. The monster ordered him to do something terrible, and he did as told. Good people died. From that tragedy, though, he finally found the will to escape for good. He spent years fleeing south, dogged by hunters. I wondered every day what would happen to him. But then, something unlikely happened. He wound up in the same city I was in. I met him for the first time when he finally decided to confront the slavers chasing after him. He even asked me to help. Ever since then, I have gotten to know him, and see for myself the person he truly is. I fell in love. Even though I scared him away and ruined what we had, I still treasure having been able to meet him and be his friend._

_So few ever find their soul mate. But I was lucky enough to meet you. I know you’re going to be so angry, and maybe you’ll even hate me. I’ll deserve it. I tried so hard to keep this from you, but even still, a part of me always knew the truth would come out, someday. I doubt you’ll want to accept it, or even if you do, I know what your thoughts are on it. I don’t expect anything from you. Whatever you decide to say or do, I’ll accept it. Please just know that I didn’t hide this out of malice or to deceive you. I’m just so afraid._

_No matter what, I love you. I always will._

_\- Hawke_

 

The whole world felt like it shifted when he finally put the letter down. Nothing felt quite the same. Fenris stared in disbelief. So many emotions warred with each other that he just felt numb at first. He read over the letter again, still in shock.

When the logjam of emotions finally broke, Hawke’s prediction came true: he was enraged. Fenris surged to his feet, flinging the letter onto the bed as he furiously paced the room. _How could she – this can’t be! She’s displacing her absurd beliefs on me. This is fanciful wishing on her part and nothing more. Or worse yet, pinning whatever sorrows she has on this and letting herself get carried away by her heartbreak._ Yet the words rung hollow, and his pacing halted when he felt something that he never would have expected. Underneath the anger and shock and turmoil, something welled up inside of him, small but vocal: _relief._ It was like a dislocated joint was finally set back into place. That part of him not only believed Hawke, but it embraced what she said. It _wanted_ it all to be true.

_Disgust_ barely covered what he felt. He’d seen what the magisters did in pursuit of their “soul mates”. They’d cut open their slaves and use their blood to commune with the demons in the Fade, all under the guise of trying to find their so-called other half. He thought Hawke above that. He thought _himself_ above that. Yet, no matter how many times he replayed those awful memories, reminding himself of the atrocities this belief spawned, and how the Chantry denounced it, that traitorous kernel of joy persisted. Worse, it seemed to be getting stronger.

Fenris punched the nearest wall in frustration. His mind felt like it was being torn apart, and he didn’t know what to do. He exhaled raggedly, trying to get his emotions in check. Flying off the handle wasn’t going to help. He needed answers.

After pushing himself off the wall, Fenris swiped the letter before he strode with purpose towards the door. He shoved it open, letting it bang against the wall as he walked out until he could see Varric.

Everyone’s heads turned towards him at once, with a range of expressions scattered across their faces. Some were shocked, and some were thoughtful. Anders had his head in his hands, but looked up when Fenris entered.

Fenris ignored all of them in favor of Varric. “How long have you known?” he demanded, eyes boring into the dwarf.

“Since a couple weeks after Hawke’s mother died. And before you ask, _I_ confronted Hawke about it. She’d have probably never told me otherwise.”

“Confronted her?”

“I noticed some strange things back then. In fact, we were talking about them before you came in. Seems I’m the only one who put them all together and figured ‘Okay, something’s not quite right here’.” He glanced over with a wryly cocked brow at Anders. “I’m still shocked you didn’t catch on.”

“I’m such an idiot,” Anders muttered. “I was so caught up with my own issues that I didn’t even step back to look at hers. No wonder she’s been such a mess.” He eyed Fenris critically.

It seemed the mage wanted to pick a fight. Fenris knew he shouldn’t indulge him, but he was too emotionally volatile to pass it up. “And this is where you lecture me about how lucky I should feel, that I should be dancing for joy?”

“This is the part where I remain completely unsurprised that you’re upset about it.” Anders shook his head in dismay. “Figures. Even confronted with the truth, you can’t entertain the possibility that you might be wrong. The chances of you two just happening to run into each other here are infinitesimal. Most who actively seek out their mates never find them, and yet you two were able to do so without trying. You _are_ lucky, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, you let one bad experience color your entire perception.”

“ _One_ bad experience?” _Shows how little he knows, or cares to understand._ “I saw it time and time again! Countless mages and magisters hid behind the excuse of ‘soul mates’ to strike deals with demons. All they were after was more power!”

“Good things are used for evil all the time! It doesn’t necessarily make it in and of itself evil! Love isn’t evil, but people use that as an excuse to do awful things, too.”

“This isn’t love. This is a delusion! And anything that involves colluding with demons spells trouble, no matter your intentions. Isn’t that the entire basis of this myth? Demons supposedly bringing people together through dreams or some such nonsense?”

But rather than Anders, another voice piped up, “The dreamers have no control over it.” Merrill didn’t flinch when Fenris aimed his hard stare at her. “No more than you do with your own dreams. It just happens. Think of how terrifying it must have been for Hawke, seeing the things that happened to you and not being able to do anything. Varric said that… she can sense when you’re about to walk into danger. That’s how she knew Danarius was in Kirkwall. I don’t all know what happened to you, but I know it must have been terrible. Hawke looked for Danarius to confirm he was here, so she could warn you. She was just trying to protect you.”

He wasn’t sure what was worse: the guilt, or that Merrill managed to trip him up, even if only for a moment. “You expect me to believe that she could _feel_ him arriving in the city?”

“Same way she did when Hadriana showed up.” Varric lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Remember? Besides, how else would you explain it?”

Now that Varric mentioned it, Fenris never quite understood how Hawke began to panic and insist they get off the Sundermount, right before the slavers showed up. He’d talk it up to uncanny timing, though it didn’t explain why she felt alarmed to begin with. As for her being in that warehouse… the only other explanation he could come up with was that she was somehow in cohorts with Danarius. But even just _thinking_ that felt like an enormous violation. _She would never._ “I-”

“All of you, save it,” Aveline cut in. “While I’m not making light of it, this conversation needs to wait. Right now, our priority needs to be Hawke and getting her out of there.”

“I have to agree,” Sebastian murmured, shooting his friend an apologetic glance. “We could be here all night debating this, but Danarius apparently believes it to be true, and he’ll act accordingly. Maker willing, he won’t know that your sister warned us. Hawke is in enough danger as is.”

“Our usual approach won’t work,” Aveline continued. “We can’t just go barging in there. I suspect Hawke meant to give us numbers and an idea of what to expect, but that information’s trapped with her, and I am not going to risk her life unnecessarily.”

Frankly, Fenris wasn’t willing to take that chance either. Whatever his feelings right now, one thing was certain: he wanted to save Hawke, no matter what. Whatever it took, he would do it. However, that meant… “We’ll have to spring Danarius’ trap.”

Aveline nodded. “I’m sorry. I know this can’t be easy for you, considering everything. Right now, we’ve got to focus on Hawke. Once we get her out of there, and preferably kill Danarius, then by all means, you people can go round and round on the subject. In the meantime, as long as your sister doesn’t get caught and keeps her mouth shut, we have an advantage.” She smirked a little, beckoning everyone to gather around her. “And I think I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it folks. The moment you'd all been waiting for. Now he knows. And boy does he have a lot to sift through. 
> 
> On a side note, you may or may not have noticed we now have a cap on the chapter count. I want to stress it's a tentative count, it might go up or down before it's over. I've been wrong about how long certain parts of the story would be before.
> 
> That said, thanks for reading! See you next time.


	35. The Truth That Will No Longer Be Denied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is in for a long night as he struggles with what he's learned, and what's yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, it's Fenris and his stubbornness versus the truth and Varric's patience. And also a certain dream bound visitor.
> 
> Enjoy~

The plan was straightforward enough. Aveline knew the place, and she planned on having a “chat” with the owner to insure everything went off without a hitch. Isabela and Anders would be in the back room, doing the dishes as punishment for not being able to pay their tab (or so the story would go). Aveline and Merrill would be in position in a different side room as the time neared (Aveline was mum on the details, only saying they’d be there and shooting Merrill a look). Varric, to his immense chagrin, would be stuffed underneath the bar in waiting, brought in during the morning before the bar opened (there was mention of a barrel, thus the chagrin). Sebastian would go with Fenris as “moral support” after everyone agreed it would likely raise Danarius’ suspicions if Fenris went in alone, after knowing he had made friends in the city.

Truthfully, Fenris only half paid attention to the discussions. His role was simple: he was the bait. He had to show up, lure Danarius out, and trust that his friends would be there when the time came. Once they finished the discussion, he beat a hasty retreat, bee-lining straight for his mansion.

Terror ate at him, coming at him from all directions. He feared confronting Danarius, as much as he wanted to pretend he was ready to. He feared what would happen to Hawke between now and tomorrow. He feared how the battle would go. And, even if all went well, there left the issue of Hawke’s confession, and the aftermath it would bring. That, he feared most of all.

There was little he could do about most of his worries tonight. The helplessness didn’t sit well with him, so he did what he often did faced with such things: he drank. He grabbed two bottles from the cellar to start and popped open one, drinking deeply from it. He hoped it’d help him sleep that night, but if nothing else, he hoped it would shut up that insistent voice in him that kept wanting to believe Hawke.

No amount of reasoning silenced it. Hot shame roiled in Fenris’ gut, spurring him to take another drink. _Since when have I ever lent any credence to the idea? Is this some misplaced guilt from that conversation we had about the matter? At least I now understand why she looked so pained…_

In fact, her confession explained quite a lot. Varric had mentioned “strange things” that he had noticed, and as Fenris mulled over it, he realized there had been a slew of odd events he had never been able to explain either. He also viewed his conversation with Carver in a new light. Surely this was what he was hinting at. And that stumped him, because surly, depressingly practical Carver never struck him as the type to buy into this soul mate insanity.

_‘Sometimes, you’re wrong about things that you thought you were so sure of, too.’_

Fenris frowned deeply at the wine bottle in his hand.

A faint creak from beyond his bedroom alerted Fenris. The intruder didn’t immediately reveal themselves, so he positioned the wine bottle, ready to throw it if necessary.

A small figure appeared around the corner. The short stature immediately gave Varric away as he strolled into the bedroom, a book of some sort tucked under his arm. He eyed the bottles on the table, and then the empty ones from nights past scattered around the room. “The wine sellers must _love_ you,” he joked.

Normally Fenris would have a quip at the ready, but tonight, nothing came. He merely shrugged before taking another drink from the bottle.

Varric helped himself to a seat, laying the book on across his lap. It wasn’t a proper book. Not like a novel or anything, Fenris noticed. “So… we didn’t have much of a chance to talk after you read Hawke’s letter. Aveline sort of took over everything.”

“She was right to; Hawke needs to be our priority.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean the other stuff has to get shoved to the side. We can’t do anything until tomorrow anyway.” Varric rubbed his chin; Fenris knew it was a sign that he was choosing his words carefully before he spoke. Well, more carefully than usual, at any rate. “Let me start off by saying this: right before we, ah, got wind Danarius was in town, Hawke and I were discussing how to tell you about all of this.” He heaved out a sigh. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but I thought you should know she was planning to.”

Fenris couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. “Why now?”

“Because Hawke couldn’t hide it any longer. Ideally, she would never have told you. But… her soul had other ideas. Plus, after her fight with Aveline the other night, she knew she couldn’t keep hiding something was going on. Basically, she got backed into a corner and realized she had no choice.” He glanced up with a wry smile. “You know how stubborn she gets.”

_Stubborn, indeed._ As if he was one to talk. “So she planned to go through life never telling me, if she had her way? Even if we had been…” _Together_ went unsaid, but he knew Varric would pick up on it.

“Her parents did it, so I guess she thought she could, too.” Varric adjusted the book on his lap. Fenris eyed it critically; it appeared to be a loose leaf book of some sort. “But like I said, that didn’t work out and she was readying herself to tell you. Then all this happened.” His eyes turn downcast. “Daisy had the right of it, you know. I told Hawke what she was doing was stupid, but I couldn’t stop her. I get why she had to do it. After all the shit you went through, I don’t think she could bear letting something happen on her watch. And… honestly, I think she wanted to see Danarius for herself. Lay her own eyes on him.”

Wine bottle clutched in his hand, Fenris felt an urge to hurl it at the wall. His lip curled before he took another drink. “Why do you believe her? As a dwarf, I’d think you’d be one of the last to consider it.”

“Well, that’s a good question, isn’t it?” One corner of Varric’s lips turned upwards slightly. “Have you really not noticed anything strange between you two? You never wondered how she always knew when you were about to walk into a room? Surely you saw her looking over her shoulder as you strolled in. Or how you always knew when she was in trouble in a battle? Or maybe how you were willing to trust an apostate so quickly, especially in light of your relationship with the _other_ two apostates? I gotta say, you warmed up to her quick. Then there’s the way she can lay a hand on you and you’re calm, whereas if anyone else-”

“ _Fenhedis!_ ” Fenris cut him off, glaring a hole into the far wall. Those were the very things he had wondered about, too. He _never_ understood why he’d been so relaxed around Hawke from the beginning. Something about her bewitched him. It began with the way she smiled at him, and how she scrunched her nose when she laughed, the tattoo on her cheeks bunching up into weird lines. But that deepened into more over time. She’d accepted him as part of her group unconditionally, never doubting his worth as a person despite his past. The way she looked at him made him feel like he was more than a runaway slave without a past; it made him feel like an equal, imbibing him with personhood when he’d been treated as nothing more than a weapon and plaything for so long. She worried over him, cared about him, and he recognized, even as upset as he was, that she’d been trying to protect him in her own way.

In short, she loved him.

Fenris hurled his wine bottle, watching it smash into hundreds of glimmering shards against the wall. He pushed out of his chair so hard it knocked over, clambering across the ground. “So everything she and I had was all based on this, on her wanting to get closer to me because of this – this delusion! _At best._ For all I know, this could also be the work of blood magic! An enchantment of hers that she wove over my mind. Or perhaps some kind of binding spell that…” His fingers dug into his scalp as he paced. “I’m not familiar enough with magic to properly diagnose what it is, but whatever it is, she’s convinced you of it, too. Perhaps you’re ensnared as well!”

When he finally rounded on Varric, he was met with a deadpan look. Varric sighed. “Elf, do you really, honestly, sincerely believe that Hawke is capable of doing any of that?”

Mages were capable of anything. Look at Anders and Merrill, he reasoned to himself. The magisters also committed horrible atrocities in the past, their spells paid for by the blood of countless slaves. History overflowed with stories of abominations and mages colluding with demons. No mage was incapable of anything-

“ _No_ ,” he gasped out, his shoulders sagging.

…but he could not think that of Hawke. Not the woman who couldn’t bluff in Wicked Grace to save her life. Not the woman who didn’t even know how to do a simple blood ritual. Not the woman whose smile softened all the hard edges in him. Not her, not _his-_

He snarled, pushing the traitorous thought out of his mind. _No, no, no._

Varric frowned in concern. “Elf? Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“This… voice. This part of me wholeheartedly believes Hawke’s words. No matter what I say or do, it persists. It’s like a weed that I can’t root out.”

“That’s your soul banging on the walls of your mind yelling ‘ _listen to me’_. Do yourself a favor and listen to it.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

Varric hopped up from his seat, book in hand. “About a year after you were taken by Danarius, you found another slave stealing apples from the pantry. You covered for her, and when the cook questioned where the apples went, you took the fall. Took a nasty beating for it, too.”

Fenris remembered that; it’d been his first major punishment in Danarius’ ownership. The other slave never thanked him for it, either. She got caught later stealing coin and got a worse punishment than he had. His scowl deepened as he thought back. He had never told anyone about that.

Before the question left his mouth, Varric answered, “Hawke told me. The real question is, how did _she_ know?” Varric set the book down on the table, sliding it towards Fenris. “She saw a lot of stuff. Some good, and a lot bad. When she was a kid, she started sketching what she saw. Not sure how happy she’ll be about me burgling her house, but, desperate times and all.” He leaned back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “I could sit here all night and try to get you to come around, but I think this might work better. It’s the closest thing we have to proof. And I know how stubborn you are. You need to arrive at the conclusion on your own.”

He turned to leave, shrugging his coat on tighter as he headed for the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “I know this is a lot to put on you suddenly, and I don’t feel great about having to do it this way. I know you want to distrust it. I get it. But don’t you for a second think that what Hawke feels – about this and about you – are based on lies. She loves you. That’s as real as it’s gonna get.”

Fenris felt something prick at the back of his neck after Varric left, leaving him alone with his wine and that ominous looking book on his table. A part of him wanted to just ignore it, but he knew he couldn’t. It called to him, like Hawke’s letter had. Hesitant fingers reached out and touched it. The leather was worn under his fingertips, weathered from years of handling. He slid the book towards him, and with a delicate push of his fingers, it opened.

The first drawing was crude, no doubt drawn by a child. Nothing in the drawing felt familiar, but that was more a testament to an as of yet undeveloped artistic skill than anything else. The misshapen figures could have been anyone. It was the date in the top right hand corner that caught his eye. Young Hawke had the mind to date her drawings, at least. That first one was from nineteen years ago.

One by one, Fenris paged through the book. The earliest drawings provided very little in the way of proof, as Varric claimed. But Fenris wasn’t that unreasonable. They were, after all, the drawings of a child. Despite that, though, one or two sketches caught his eye. One looked eerily like a building he often saw in Seheron.

The drawings naturally increased in skill the further he went in. About five years’ worth later, Fenris came to a page and stopped suddenly, eyes wide. A portrait of Varania stared back at him; there was no doubt it was her. He remembered those eyes.

_“The seamstress made this dress for me for the festival! Master said I could wear it, too. Do you like it, brother?”_

Fenris gasped as the memory skittered across his mind. He blindly reached out to it, wanting to draw out more. But all he could remember was Varania’s words, and the way she smiled as she twirled, showing off the dress.

His pace became increasingly frantic as he resumed going through the book, distantly familiar faces and places unfolding with each passing page. He found one of Varania walking arm in arm with an older elven woman, both wearing similar smiles. He recognized the dimples in the older woman’s cheeks, and the way she wore her hair. _Mother._ His heart squeezed in a longing ache he’d forgotten. He tried to remember something about her: her voice, her mannerisms, anything. But he could barely recall her face, and that was only with the help of the drawing.

Desperate for more, he continued through the book, hoping for – well, he didn’t really know what. More memories. More answers. More _something_. But a hauntingly well-known face stopped him cold.

Danarius’ stare bore into him from the page. Hawke nailed his details well, from his cold eyes to his leering smile. He was drawn differently than the others. Whereas most had light, even strokes, his were dark and hard, stark and jagged. Even years later, the page still echoed the abhorrence of the subject to the artist.

Fenris kept going, though the memories here were familiar now. Small caricatures of the other slaves and Danarius’ friends filled the pages. One drawing showed the chain coming from his neck, with his hand – now embedded with lyrium – clutching it tightly. Grimacing, he hastened his pace.  

He paused once more when he came upon a self-portrait of Hawke. From what he could tell, she drew it from looking at herself in a mirror. His fingers gently traced the outline, despite himself. She drew herself with a wry smile, one Fenris hadn’t seen in what felt like ages. It reminded him of how happy she used to look, and how much healthier and hardy she was once. Now her smiles – the real ones, not the forced ones she put on nowadays – were rare anymore, and she’d lost too much weight.

_It’s because of me._ And for the first time, he didn’t fight the notion. Swallowing hard, he turned the page, and found yet another portrait. Not of Hawke or anyone from his memories, but of himself. His brow raised at the amount of detail put into it. The lines of his lyrium markings were drawn with careful precision, and the detail put into his armor staggered him. It was drawn from memory for certain; the drawing was of him sitting in the Hanged Man, smiling about something. The date put it within a month after he met Hawke and the others, so it must have been one of his first visits to the tavern. Scribbled out next to the picture was ‘So handsome. This is what he really looks like. No more guessing.’

The words stood out for two reasons. One was that this was the first handwritten note he’d seen in the book, aside from the dates. Two was that apparently, she had had no idea what he’d looked like. _It does explain some of the sketches then. But how did she not know? I’ve looked in mirrors before-_

It struck him then, in a moment of self-awareness, that he was sitting there, looking through that book, seriously considering that Hawke was telling the truth. Without even realizing it, his mind began to wrap itself around the possibility. His fingers dug into the book. _No, I haven’t-_

But if she was lying, then how did he explain those sketches? Hawke wasn’t all that great of a liar to start with. He supposed she could have used some kind of magic to delve into his memories, but then that would have required her to go into that book and try to draw like a child, and then progressively make the drawings better as she went. She then would have had to make the oldest drawings look faded, which they clearly were in the book. No, even by his overly cautious standards, that was ridiculous.

That left only one explanation.

Fenris grabbed the other bottle, the one that hadn’t met a hard fate against the wall, and wrenched off the cork. He practically chugged it, like a man who hadn’t felt a drop of liquid on his tongue for days. But no matter how much he drank, nothing dulled the truth that settled in him like a lead weight. He could rail against it for eternity, but it wouldn’t change anything. Through some magical or demon-assisted means, Hawke had seen his memories over a span of twenty years. There was a connection between the two of them, something tangible that held sway over them both.

_Does that… truly make us soul mates?_ Even faced with mounting evidence, he still struggled with accepting it. It felt so wrong. And yet, so right, according to that increasingly louder, niggling voice in the back of his head. As the wine bottle slowly drained, Fenris’ mind became more and more muddled as he wrestled with the notion. Even hours later, when he finally slumped over and passed out in exhaustion, the battle was at a stalemate.

 

* * *

 

The voice came to him again in the dark. Something about it felt strangely comforting, like an old friend coming over to offer comfort. _Your soul howls in fear. Remember what the painted one said, when you told him you considered running away in case the monster returned for you?_

He remembered. “There comes a time when you must stop running, when you must turn and face the tiger.”

_That time has come._

“It isn’t that simple. This isn’t a straightforward battle. Not… not all of it.”

_There is only one battle to be had. The other that you are thinking of does not need to be. Little wolf, to reunite with your other half is a gift. But gifts come with a price, as the little bird has come to learn as well._

“I never asked for this so-called gift!”

_You didn’t ask to be alive or to be born into the circumstances you were, either. Some things just are. At least with this, you still have a choice. You can walk away, if you want. No one can make you stay. Not even her._

“But where will that leave her?”

_In darkness. She’ll smile and assure you she’ll be fine. But that’s a lie you’re familiar with._

“So I am bound to her regardless. If I leave, she suffers. If I stay…”

_Not all binds are chains, little wolf. Not all are meant to shackle you and rob you of freedom. You fear anything tying you, and yet, you long for a past. For a home. These are ties, too. They are the things that will always call you back when you wander too far._

“But those things don’t invade my thoughts and try to persuade me into believing something I am against! Ever since I read that letter, the idea has leeched onto my mind, taking root and inserting itself. It’s a parasite!”

_You see it as an invader, but it’s always been there. Your soul always knew the truth. But whenever it tried to reach out, it was drowned out by all the doubts and lies the world filled your head with. Her words gave it a chance to finally speak. It will not suffer to be silenced any longer. Listen to it._

“Why should I believe a word out of you, whatever you are?”

_You trusted your instinct before; it’s what’s kept you alive. Trust it now. Besides… you might be surprised at what it has to say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will he ever come around? Find out next chapter as we head towards the showdown with Danarius.


	36. The Wolf, the Hawk, and the Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to confront a certain magister and rescue a certain Champion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this on the fly before I head out, so replies to everyone's comments from last chapter will come a bit later! Thanks again to everyone for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Day came, bringing muted sunlight through Fenris’ window. As he woke, he sat up and immediately winced as his back protested. He had fallen asleep slouched over the table, and his body was none too pleased.

A few minutes of stretching out his muscles later, it felt safe for him to stand. Fenris rose to his feet, assessing the room… and his current situation. A part of him hoped it was all a nightmare, and the day would bring back sanity. Yet, unsurprisingly, nothing changed. Danarius was still in the city, he still had Hawke, and Fenris still had to face them both in a mere matter of hours.

Both conversations from last night loomed over him, though the second one unnerved him the most. While he suspected it was the same demon from the night before, he also couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity that came with it, like a distant memory he couldn’t quite recall. _A trick of its own doing, no doubt._

‘ _You trusted your instinct before; it’s what’s kept you alive. Trust it now. Besides… you might be surprised at what it has to say.’_

Fenris almost growled, but as he started to pace, he remembered someone else shared that sentiment.

‘ _That’s your soul banging on the walls of your mind yelling ‘_ listen to me’ _. Do yourself a favor and listen to it.’_

His ears twitched. If it had just come from the demon, he’d be far less inclined to listen. But he trusted Varric enough to seriously consider that if the dwarf truly believed Hawke, then there was something to it all. After everything he heard and saw last night, for the first time in his life, he found himself considering that maybe soul mates were not lies perpetuated by mages and those against the Chantry. Maybe, just maybe, there was truth to the idea.

That loud, and now confident part of his soul roared with a new surge of fury, demanding it be heard. It was difficult to listen to it without immediately wanting to beat it back, as he’d been doing so since last night. Fingers digging into his palms, he bit back the urge and decided to take Varric on his advice.

Strangely enough, within moments he began to feel calmer. As he simply listened and didn’t fight back, the voice quieted down, though it remained just as sure. He felt a tug within, and a terrible ache to see Hawke. It went beyond want; it was almost an alarming _need_. Fenris slid down into a crouching position, bringing his fisted hands to his lips. While what he felt now was unusually strong, it wasn’t different than what’d he had been feeling – and fighting against – for the past year or so. He had seen it as a weakness on his part, longing for something he told himself he couldn’t have anymore. In a stunning moment of clarity, he realized it was the same voice that hounded him since last night; now it just had more to say.

‘ _Your soul always knew the truth… It will not suffer to be silenced any longer.’_

It really, _truly_ rankled him to admit it, but he conceded that the demon was right. The part of him that was drawn to Hawke from the beginning, that helped him overlook his insecurities and his past and make that leap to begin something with her, that cried out in sorrow and rage when he left her and lambasted him relentlessly ever since, and that now railed against his long held beliefs was not the result of weakness and fear, but a single entity that had been trying to reach through to him: his soul.

 _So then, it’s true._ He had to let it sink in for a moment. Soul mates were a real thing and his was currently imprisoned by his old master. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This changed everything: every interaction with Hawke, every word exchanged now had to be reexamined. He had no idea what to make of it. Now that the matter of his _believing_ Hawke was settled, the issue that remained was what to do with it. His head spun at just the thought of it, but he shoved it aside. A discussion needed to be had with Hawke over the matter. But that had to wait until Danarius was dealt with.

He stared at the floor in thought, brow furrowed in deepening worry. So long as Danarius had Hawke in his grasp, he held all the power. Fear churned in his gut; what if he had…?

 _…no. She’s still alive. Something tells me I’d know if she wasn’t._ He nodded to himself. _It makes sense. If he’s to kill her, it’ll wait until I get there._ He had no doubt Danarius intended to do just that. Despite what he had previously believed about his former master, Danarius seemed to buy into the idea of soul mates. He would not suffer Fenris having one. _And what better way to break me?_ His teeth clenched. The only outcome he refused to consider happening was Hawke’s death. It would _not_ happen, no matter what. Contemplating it even for the briefest of moments scared him more than facing anything else for the duration of a lifetime.

A flash of red caught him from the corner of his eye. He looked down at Hawke’s favor, perpetually tied to his wrist. Idly he fingered the worn cloth, the representation of Hawke’s affection and devotion. Had she offered it to him only because they were soul mates? He knew she loved him, but why? So many questions and doubts circled around in his head. _I can’t let them distract me. Danarius will not go down easily. We all need to be at our best._ Once he was dead, then he would need to confront Hawke, and face whatever would come with it… along with the choice he knew he’d have to make.

 

* * *

 

The walk to the docks never felt so long. Fenris never let his guard down while walking through Kirkwall, but his usual cautiousness went into overload as he glanced at every shadowy corner, expecting one of Danarius’ men to leap out.

As the stairs leading down into the docks loomed ahead, he caught from the corner of his eye a figure move out of the shadows and approach him. He automatically reached for his sword before stopping when he realized who it was.

Sebastian smiled uneasily at him. “I wanted to speak with you before we proceeded,” he explained. He lowered his voice as he continued, “The others are in position. It’s just up to us now.”

“Do we know for certain they’re inside?”

“Aveline and the others? Or Danarius and his retinue?”

“Both, preferably.”

“Yes and most likely. Aveline spoke with the tavern’s owner last night. He confessed to putting up Danarius and his retinue. So far as we know, they haven’t left.”

“Then let us be off.”

“Are you certain you’re ready? I know last night was… a lot to take in.”

“I must be ready. It’s not a matter of choice.”

Sebastian gave him a quick nod, beckoning him to follow. “Once we get near, we need to play our parts accordingly. After all, this is just supposed to be you meeting your sister. We can’t go in looking like we are expecting an ambush.”

“I am no actor.”

“Just follow my lead.”

They followed the path that wound around the docks. As the warehouses gave way to a market and a few smaller buildings, Sebastian put on a smile and clapped Fenris’ shoulder briefly. “I know you’re nervous,” he said in a louder voice, one meant to rise above the din of the sailors and dock workers bustling around them. “But I assure you, she’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

Taking the hint, Fenris nodded. “I… maybe so,” he stammered out. “I am surprised she came at all.”

“Surely she wants to see you. It’s been years, and I cannot imagine why she wouldn’t want to reunite with her brother.”

The tavern appeared around the corner, a small hole in the wall that barely stood out, save for a dinky sign hanging off the front of the building. _A far cry from Danarius’ usual fare,_ Fenris noted with an almost sneer. “I… think this is it.”

“So it is.” The men walked up to the door. Sebastian braced his hand against it, glancing back at Fenris. “It’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.”

With an affirmative nod, the archer pushed open the door. An aroma of fish and stale beer greeted them as they stepped inside. Fenris made a disgusted sound as he looked around. If nothing else, he hoped his revulsion to the smells inside would help disguise his emotions.

The tavern barely had any patrons, given the early hour, so it was easy to spot Varania sitting near the far right wall. Fenris looked to Sebastian.

“I’ll be here.” Sebastian shot him a smile, patient and reassuring. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“Thank you.”

The thanks felt underwhelming, considering what his friend was about to get himself into, but it was all he could give for now. Fenris walked up to Varania, remembering to put on a mask of curiosity. It _was_ supposed to be the first time he’d seen her in years. “Are you Varania?”

His sister lifted her head, eyes wide for the briefest of moments before she schooled her expression. “You’re really here.”

Fenris listened to the noises around them, but everything still seemed normal for the time being. He looked at the far wall, his eyes not focusing as he thought back. A memory had come to him, stirred up from last night. “I… I remember. We played in our master’s courtyard while Mother worked. It was… very warm that day. We were chasing each other. You called me…”

“Leto.” Varania offered him a tiny smile. “That’s your name.”

 _Leto._ Yes, he remembered. It was small and old, but it was a part of himself now reclaimed. Yet it felt funny on his tongue; so many years had passed since he last heard it.

He heard a chair scrape against the floor. At a glance, he saw the few other patrons get up from their seats and shuffle out. The bartender shot him a nervous look before setting down a glass and heading towards the door as well. The pin had been pulled, and the trap sprung. He glanced back at Varania. She let out a shuddering breath.

A door at the opposite end of the tavern opened. Men donned in hauntingly familiar armor walked out. They spread out across the back of the room, stances aggressive and hands near their weapons. The doorway remained empty as the last one came in, but only for a moment before the dreaded figure himself appeared with that smile Fenris knew all too well.

“Ah, my little Fenris,” Danarius said as he stepped into the room. “Predictable as always.”

Even knowing he was there, it didn’t stop the slow crawl of fear that stretched over Fenris’ face. It was one thing to know of his presence; it was entirely another to see him with his own eyes. The old whipping scars on his back ached in memory. He bunched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He rounded on Varania. “You led him here!” The anger from last night came back to him easily enough.

“Now, now, Fenris, don’t blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should.”

Fenris backed away, hand reaching for his sword. He didn’t see Hawke anywhere, which meant he would somehow have to get Danarius to bring her out. “I should have known you’d be behind this.”

“I thought it prudent to come find you myself after all this time. You were, after all, a most precious investment.”

“And you would see it returned, even if ripped from my corpse.”

He took another step back, as if intending to run. Danarius’ men moved towards him, ready to pounce. From behind, Fenris heard the sound of a bow being drawn taut. Sebastian aimed an arrow straight at Danarius. “We are leaving. Take another step and you’ll have an arrow in your heart.” He nodded to Fenris; an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Danarius made a “tsk” sound. “I do not think you want to do that. What do you think will happen to her if you were to leave?”

Fenris curled his lip into a sneer. “Like I care what you do to her. She sold me out to you. Do what you will.”

Varania glanced down at the table, her mouth pressed into a hard line. _You brought this upon yourself,_ Fenris thought, turning away from her.

“So cold-hearted, my pet.” Danarius sighed, the sound heavy and almost dramatic. “However, I wasn’t referring to your sister.”

And that’s exactly what Fenris hoped for. He furrowed his brow, feigning confusion. “I do not see any other woman in here.”

Danarius snapped his fingers, and immediately a few of his men left, quickly passing through a previously unnoticed door in the back. Fenris’ eyes followed them, muscles tensing as Danarius said, “You were always so cautious. And I know how good you are at escaping, so I realized a bit of insurance was needed.” He sneered. “I had hoped to meet her, after how much I heard about her and what she means to you. She landed right in my lap, as luck would have it.”

A commotion rose from the door the men left through. Shouts raised, and suddenly there was a _bang_ as one of them flew up the stairs and crashed through the door. The man landed forcefully onto the floor, groaning in pain. Not far behind him were his comrades, dragging Hawke behind them. To her credit, she wasn’t making it easy on them. She kicked and swore at them, and Fenris saw magic spark around her hands as she was yanked through the doorway.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” she snapped. She fought against them until finally she was thrown to the floor.

Fenris surged forward instinctively, but a quickly drawn sword held to Hawke’s throat stopped him short. Relm, mindful of the sword, carefully lifted her head. Her eyes widened upon seeing Fenris. For the briefest moment, she glanced at Varania, a flash of anger crossing her face, before looking back at Fenris. “No…”

“Why the long face?” Danarius asked mockingly. “Are you not pleased to see him?”

It chilled Fenris to the bone to see them so close together. She was in easy reach of Danarius. “Let her go. You have me here, there’s no more reason to hold her.”

Relm shook her head. “You know he won’t. Just get out of here. Don’t worry about me.”

“While that’s very noble of you, I doubt our dear Fenris will do such a thing. Though he _was_ willing to let his own sister die…” A ponderous glance from Danarius met Fenris’ deepening scowl. “Yet, it’s not so simple here, is it?”

“I won’t warn you again. Let her go.”

“It’s a shame it’s come to this,” Danarius said, ignoring Fenris’ warning as he looked down at Hawke. “Do try to cooperate, my pet. For her sake, if nothing else. I hear it’s a very terrible ordeal…” His lips ticked upwards as he leveled a sly look at Fenris. “when someone’s soul mate dies.”

Fenris heard Hawke inhale sharply. He’d wondered when Danarius intended to spring that on him. Intent on robbing Danarius of his fun, he met his stare with a flat expression. As the seconds ticked by, Danarius’ smile transformed into an unpleased scowl. Fighting back his own smile, Fenris lifted a brow and said, “What? Was I supposed to be surprised by that?”

Despite Danarius’ reaction, a curled lip and a spat out curse, satisfaction was fleeting as the magister rounded on Hawke. “You’re a better liar than I gave you credit for. So be it. We can skip all of that then, and get to the crux of the matter.” The blade against Hawke’s throat pressed harder, enough to squeeze out a trickle of blood.

Even as Fenris’ markings flashed, Danarius remained unmoved, and said in a cold voice, “Either you come back with me willingly, my pet, or I break you. Your choice decides her fate.”

“As if you would let her live and allow me-”

He wasn’t sure _how_ she did it, but within seconds Hawke went from having a sword at her throat to sending the sword bearer careening across the room. The other men shouted and went to pin her down. Hawke bucked against them, and screamed, “Fenris, run!”

Time froze in that moment. He was no longer in that tavern, but taken back to Seheron, watching helplessly as his friend charged at the slavers, laying down his life in order to buy Fenris time. In that moment, he remembered how he stood frozen in fear, almost willing to give himself back to the slavers, until a voice called out to him and told him to run. Time muddied the memory of the voice, but now it came back to him, clear as day. That voice had been Hawke’s.

She may have wound up meeting a similar fate to that of his friend, had it not been for one key difference: they weren’t alone.

Hawke’s assailants were suddenly met with bolts to particularly squishy parts of their bodies. Sebastian let an arrow fly as well in the ensuing chaos, nailing the last of them in the chest. Flabbergasted, Danarius spun around towards the bar, where Bianca was pointed straight at him. “Surprise, scumbag.”

Before the magister even had the chance to start barking orders, the door at the opposite end of where Hawke came in burst open, streams of Merrill’s signature nature magic whipping the men and knocking many of them to the floor. As one or two quickly got to their feet, Aveline barreled into the room with a bone chilling shout, slamming into them with her shield and knocking them flat.

Those still standing near Fenris and Hawke turned on them, weapons brandished and ready to maim and kill. Fenris brought his sword up to parry any incoming blows, but before they landed, the men screamed and fell as bolts of lightning tore through them. He barely saw Anders come out of whatever room he’d been hiding in before he hurled another stream of lightning at the group, sending them scattering. One particularly gutsy soldier went to charge him. For his trouble, he was met with a dagger to his backside, courtesy of Isabela who popped out of hiding.

Fenris grabbed Hawke by her arm and pulled her to her feet. As soon as she was up, Aveline called out, “Hawke!” The guard captain tossed a mage staff she had on her towards the Champion. “Figured you might need that. Now let’s finish this.”

The fighting intensified quickly as everyone spread out. Danarius’ men were numerous, but they didn’t hold up well against such a seasoned bunch. Fenris felt no compunction in leaving the others to handle the soldiers while he went for Danarius. His markings flashed as he swung his sword at the magister. Danarius, despite his age, was spry and quick on his feet. He hopped back and answered with a flash of fire, the curl of the flames nearly singeing Fenris as he dodged.

Danarius began preparing another spell, but he was forced to abandon it when Hawke came at him from behind, magic crackling loudly as it burst towards him. The magister barely managed a counterspell, but the attack left him off balance. Fenris seized the chance and swung again, practically delighted when he felt the blade cut and saw the subsequent spray of blood followed. Danarius grunted as he used Mind Blast to knock both of them back and away from him.

“Tsk. Two on one? So uncouth.”

But when both went to strike at him, their blows were deflected by a strong Barrier spell Danarius conjured.

“But perhaps not surprising. Ah, it’s so fascinating watching you two,” he said as held out his hand, using the other to pull out a knife. “Two halves of the same soul. If you, my dear pet, weren’t so stubborn and I thought your mage suitable, I’d bring you both back to Tevinter as mine. Wouldn’t that be so kind?”

Fenris knew Danarius said it to make his blood boil. All the same, it worked, and red tinged the edges of his vision. “I’d rather gut myself and Hawke before I let that happen. You will not do to her what you forced me to suffer.”

“Then it’s a shame you two must die,” Danarius slashed open his palm, bringing forth blood. “I’ll make good on my promise and kill her in front of you, dear Fenris, and punish you for your insolence!”

With his blood Danarius summoned a number of small portals that popped in scattered parts of the room. Just as the last of his soldiers fell, demons poured out from the portals, screeching as they descended into the waking world.

“ _Why_ does it always have to be demons?” Varric griped as he began shooting.

“He’s a magister from Tevinter, what did you expect?” Fenris snapped as he struck at Danarius’ barrier again. It refused to yield. _Vishante kaffas!_

Hawke spun and threw up a wall of ice, just in time to deflect the surge of demons hurtling towards them. “He can’t hold it forever, especially not after summoning this many demons.”

With a reluctant nod, Fenris turned his attention towards the demons, helping his friends dispatch them and biding time until Danarius’ Barrier finally lowered. He tore and slash through demons and shades, occasionally glancing over to see if the Barrier still held.

He also found himself looking to Hawke at times, seeing if she was all right. She was focused on the battle and rarely saw him. Once, though, their eyes met. A brief flash of fear and apprehension crossed over her before she forcefully looked away. Given what was happening around them, Fenris didn’t have the luxury to try and decipher the look. That was for later.

Just as the last of the demons fell, and as he and Hawke both directed their focus on Danarius, the magister cursed and drew forth more blood, and brought more demons in from the Fade.

“Come out of there and fight, Danarius!” Fenris roared, tired of exhausting his energy on lackeys and demons. The longer the fight dragged on, the more dangerous it became.

“That’s _master_ to you!”

The very air seemed to vibrate for a moment, leaving both men stunned for a split second before a wave of telekinetic energy crashed against the Barrier. While it still held, Fenris could see it begin to fade, Danarius struggling to maintain it.

“Actually,” Hawke said, her voice low, “it’s _monster_.” She pulled her fist back; Fenris expected a Stone Fist, but instead, she hurtled a stream of energy (Maker’s Fist, he learned later) at Danarius, further damaging the Barrier. Danarius’ eyes widened in brief panic as the Barrier dimmed. “I didn’t have names for anyone, you know. So that’s what I called you. The monster. That’s what you are,” Gritting her teeth, she reared back, mana surging. With a loud shout, she hurled one more blast, and said, “and that’s how you’ll die!”

The Barrier cracked, giving out under the assault. Danarius took the blow to the chest, crying out as he flew back. He groaned as he laid out on the ground, clutching his ribs. Hawke bent over and braced her hands on her knees, the effort clearly having strained her.

Fenris worried, but there was no time. Danarius would not stay down long. He sprinted headlong at his former master, sword raised to strike him while he was down. But the older man was ready; Fenris realized his mistake too late as Danarius dropped his injured act and shot a powerful bolt of lightning straight into Fenris.

Cuts and tears from weapons, Fenris could handle. They stung, but they were far more preferable than the damage magic wrought on a body. A sound between a yelp and a scream tore from his throat as his whole body convulsed, the force of the spell knocking him back. At some point while he stumbled back, tripping over his feet to regain his footing, he dropped his sword. His body burned beneath his armor from where the spell impacted. His fingers clutched at the source of the pain. Thankfully it missed his heart, though none of his insides felt great at the moment.

From under the shroud of his bangs, he peeked and saw Danarius approach him. His stride was not as confident; he seemed to almost limp. Perhaps he _was_ as injured as he had appeared. “If you continue to resist, I’ll do worse,” he seethed.

Fenris backpedaled as the magister neared. He looked past him for help, but his friends were occupied still by the demons. His breathing quickened as panic began to set in. Too many awful memories flooded him, ones of that leering smile bearing down on him and him helpless to stop it. His panic heightened when his heel bumped into a wall. Danarius literally had him cornered.

Just as the magister raised his staff, a flash of blue appeared between the two, followed by a burst of ice. The spell barely fazed the magister, but it bought enough space that Hawke was able to plant herself securely in front of Danarius. She pressed herself back against Fenris, pinning him to the wall. Rock Armor covered her body as she stared down the magister. “Don’t you _dare_ lay a finger on him!” She panted heavily, almost sagging, but she forced herself to remain standing.

“Typical, pathetic Fereldan, barking like a mutt at your superiors.” Danarius moved his hands in a precise pattern. “He is _mine._ I freed his family, and he willingly paid the price.” Before Fenris could shove Hawke away, Danarius cast the spell. A glyph formed and slammed into Hawke with enough force to further trap them against the wall. Hawke hissed and grunted as she fought against the hex, unable to move. “You saw it, didn’t you? How close we were, how fond of each other we were. I do wonder if you _enjoyed_ our time together, or perhaps it made you jealous? Poor little Fereldan bitch, laying in her bed-”

“ _FUCK YOU!_ ” Hawke roared with such an intensity that Fenris could feel it in his bones. Rage vibrated off of her, and with a venom he never knew her capable of, she said, “I swear to the Maker and on my father’s pyre, you are going to pay for every nightmare you put us both through.”

Her shouting drew the attention of their friends at last. Demons still swarmed the room, but Varric and Aveline tried to make their way over to them. Danarius glanced over his shoulder and sneered, drawing on just a bit more of his blood to open up another portal. Shades swirled out of it immediately, leaping at the two.

“Someone help Fenris and Hawke!” Aveline shouted as she brought her shield up to parry the shade’s claws.

Danarius made a dismissive noise and turned back to the pair. “Bold words, Champion. Let’s see how long that bravado lasts when you’re in your death throes.”

Fenris gripped Hawke’s shoulders hard enough to bruise, desperately trying to shove her off. But the hex kept her in place, and even if it hadn’t, she fought against him. He even tried squeezing out, but he was completely trapped against the wall. Out of options, his whole body shook in terror as Danarius began summoning another hex. “Enough, Danarius!” Fenris hated how the fear made his voice shake. “I’ll go back! Just don’t-”

“Shut up!” Hawke snapped. “You’re not going anywhere!”

“I’ll consider your offer, my pet, but not until after I see to your mage here,” Danarius said as he lifted his arm towards Hawke. “As for you, Champion, I thought of a perfect death for you. Long and slow, to give our dear Fenris time to consider the consequences of his-”

Suddenly, a pale blue circle glowed under them. At first, Fenris thought it Danarius’ spell, and he screamed, desperately clinging to Hawke as if to draw her away. But when nothing happened for a moment, he calmed enough to look up and see the shock on Danarius’ face. The circle formed a glyph and flashed brightly before fading. To Fenris’ surprise, he felt Hawke sag. The hex on her had disappeared.

“Who-” Danarius spun around.

Varania stood off to the side, quivering but her head held high as the magic faded from her hands.

“You traitorous, filthy-”

Dropping her Rock Armor, Hawke surged forward and rammed the blade of her staff into Danarius’ gut. The magister cried out as she pushed him back. Unable to throw her off as she kept up the pace, he desperately grabbed at her face. Fenris couldn’t see what all was happening, Hawke partially obscuring his view. Danarius screamed; as the grappling pair turned, Fenris saw that Hawke had bitten his hand. The more Danarius struggled and thrashed, the more she clamped down. Finally, the magister hit her with a burst of magic, sending her flying straight into the floor. He yanked the staff out of him, grimacing as he tossed it to the side. “Stay down, so I can kill you in-”

Flying into rages was nothing new to Fenris. But the one that overcame him in that moment made his past ones pale in comparison. His mind had only just comprehended what he saw, but his body was already moving at a speed that would (in hindsight) astonish him. He let out a blood curdling roar as he body slammed Danarius, sending them both crashing to the ground. _Blood. Kill. Maim. End him. He wants me chained. He_ hurt _her._ Something akin to a blood lust took over him. He beat his fist into Danarius over and over, the sounds of skin tearing and bones crunching fueling him, wanting more and more-

“Fenris.”

Her voice was soft but powerful. Fenris stopped, eyes blinking as coherence returned. He stared down at Danarius, his face nearly unrecognizable. To his right, he caught in his periphery the others standing and staring, their faces a mix of horror and grim satisfaction. He leaned back and looked at Hawke. She was still on the ground, kneeling as she clutched at an injury. Varania stood near her, but he ignored her. Hawke glanced at Danarius, then back at Fenris. Something unspoken but sure passed between them.

_Finish it._

Fenris stepped off of Danarius, taking in the sight of him for one last time. “I thought of the perfect death for you,” he mimicked as he activated his markings. He reached down and grabbed Danarius’ throat, hauling him up into the air. The magister’s legs weakly kicked at him. “You will haunt us no more. You are no longer my master!” He squeezed and yanked hard, tearing out Danarius’ throat. Blood sprayed out as the muscles burst out through his neck. Fenris tossed his body to the side, and watched for a long moment as Danarius’ blood pooled around his corpse.

Silence filled the room, a strange combination of relief and tension that left them all rendered speechless.

Hawke’s sigh of relief ended it. A few more from the other side of the room matched hers, though Fenris only paid hers any mind. But his attention quickly diverted to his sister, who was helping Hawke stand. Fury bubbled up in the pit of his stomach. Danarius was dead, but that still left one of the culprits responsible for his presence in Kirkwall.

Varania met his stare and jumped back, startling as he stalked towards her. She swallowed thickly, arms raising in defense. “I had no choice, Leto.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister.”

“You sold out your own brother to become a magister?”

“You have no idea what we’ve been through, what I had to do since Mother died! This was my only chance at getting a better life!” she begged. “But I never thought he’d drag others into this! You weren’t supposed to be hurt-”

“I care little for what you think!” he snarled. “And now you’ll have no chance at all.” He brought his arm up as he came within reach of her.

“Fenris, stop!” Hawke once again put herself in between him and another, though this time with the intent to stop _him._ “What she did was atrocious, but she tried to make up for it. And she probably saved both our asses back there. If nothing else, she’s your sister. She’s your only family.”

“Elf.” Varric’s voice carried well across the room. “Fenris, I know this is hard to believe, but this is the last thing you want to do.”

His blood boiled at the thought of letting his sister get away with this, but Hawke and Varric’s entreaties won out. He trusted Varric’s prior experiences with sibling betrayal, and he knew Hawke had a point: Varania _had_ saved them back there, at the risk of her own life.

“Get out,” he snapped at her.

His sister wisely took the opportunity to quickly put as much space between them as possible. But she paused at the door, daring a glance back at Fenris. “I… resented you for years for what you did. Freedom felt like no boon after what Mother and I went through. To me, you got the better end of the bargain. I could not fathom how you could be doing well on your own, free, and not be suffering how I did.”

Fenris almost wished he hadn’t listened to Hawke and Varric. At least he’d be spared her prattling. “What part of ‘get out’ did you not understand?”

“But it suits you. I’ve also come to learn that you suffered greatly, too, getting that ‘better end’ of the bargain.” A knowing look passed from Varania to Hawke. The latter ducked her head to avoid it. “I am sorry it happened like this, Leto, whether you believe me or not. I’ll be in the city a few more days-”

Too many days too long, in his opinion. “Leave!”

“I will. There’s more I could say, but I’ve taken up enough of your time. And you have more… pressing matters to attend to.” She looked again at Hawke, who still was staring down at the floor. With a sigh, regretful but resigned, she turned and left.

A far tenser silence replaced the one from before. Hawke gripped deeply at an injury, blood smeared across her fingers. Fenris internally flailed at what to say. Danarius was dead and Hawke safe. Now came the hard part, the step he wasn’t quite sure how to take.

“So…” Hawke kept her gaze trained on the ground. Even as the others began to approach, tentative and cautious, she refused to look up. “Varania gave you the letter?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “she did.”

Her grip tightened, eyes squeezing shut. “So then, you really do know.” A breath shuddered out of her as she turned away. A heartbreaking look of defeat settled over her. “I guess that’s it then.”

 _She’s not seriously going to…?_ Fenris watched her carefully, almost unable to believe it when she began walking towards the door. “Hawke, this isn’t merely something we can just shrug off-”

“You want to talk about it?” The question sounded more like an accusation. She looked pained, almost as disbelieving as he was. “What’s there to talk about? You already made your position on the matter _quite_ clear.”

He really wished he had kept his mouth shut back then. That conversation wounded her, and now it haunted him. “Hawke-”

“You said it yourself, that even if you did believe it and it was true, it’s not the worth the price.” She winced. “What’s left to say? Do you – do you really just want to rehash it, to remind me that everything I believed in, suffered through and held out hope for these past twenty years means nothing to you? Is that what you want?” Her voice raised incrementally until it reached an almost hysterical pitch. “To rub salt in the wound for a moment that I’ve been dreading for years? To see me suffer and pay for all this? Well I’m _sorry,_ okay?” Something rare happened: tears welled up, there in front of her friends, as she backed away, shoulders hunched and expression terrified. “ _I’m sorry._ I’m sorry you had to get dragged into it, too. I’m sorry that this blew up in our faces. I tried to avoid it but I should have known it would anyway. Everything I do does. I-”

“ _Hawke._ ” Aveline cut off her teary tirade, her voice stern but her expression sympathetic. There was an uncommon gentleness to her words as she said, “Look, you went through a lot the past twenty-four hours. You’re exhausted; we all are. Get some rest. Then you can-”

“Don’t act like this is something easily solved, that I’m overreacting like a cranky toddler!” Hawke snapped. “You have _no_ idea what it’s been like. I told you before, you can’t help me, so stop trying.” And then she did what Hawke always did in such situations: she murmured an apology and turned and ran.

Aveline started to chase after her, but Fenris grabbed her elbow to stop her. “Leave her be.”

He knew he risked a fist to his jaw, given the look on her face. “You can’t be serious. You’re letting her go, just like that?”

“For now.” Fenris knew what it felt like to be cornered, afraid and just wanting to run. “I’m not forcing a conversation when she’s that terrified. She needs to gather her wits, as do I.”

“But you _will_ talk.”

He nodded. There was no avoiding it. He didn’t plan on rehashing that conversation he and Hawke had weeks ago, where he dismissed soul mates. It was no longer that simple. He needed a little time to sort out his emotions and thoughts, and prepare himself. The words would not come easily, but they needed to be said. And soon.

This clearly had gone on for long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it folks. Next chapter's the moment of truth, and the return to Hawke's POV.
> 
> Until next time~


	37. Nightmare's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more running, no more hiding. Relm and Fenris finally have to face down the truth about themselves and what to do about it. Relm readies herself for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well, here we are. I have to say, I can't believe we've made it to this chapter. Not because of a lack of faith, but it's simply one of those moments where it felt like I blinked and suddenly, here I am. A lot about this fic has changed as I went along in writing it, but this moment's always been a constant. It was a bit surreal when I was writing it, because the scene's been in my head for a year and a half and now it's finally written and done. I edited this chapter more than any of the others, and it's the one I am the most excited yet nervous about posting. 
> 
> Eugh, enough rambling, you didn't come here for that. Without further ado, here's the new chapter. Here we go~

There were many things Relm disliked about herself. Above all was her cowardice in the face of emotional turmoil. Every time it reared its ugly head, she fled. That day it drove her straight home, barely holding back tears as she crashed inside. Immediately she demanded Bodahn, Sandal and Orana leave for a few days. For a holiday, for whatever they wanted, they just had to go. Now. Whatever awaited her in regards to Fenris, the last thing she wanted was for the three of them to bear witness.

Bodahn, in a rare moment of boldness, tried to argue her down. Even Orana, long accustomed to doing a master’s bidding without question, pleaded with her.

“Go! Just – just bloody go! I don’t know want you here for a few days. Please.”

Eventually, they conceded. They gathered their things and took the coin Hawke gave them to stay elsewhere for the night. Bodahn glanced back at her before walking out the door, one last plea for her to reconsider. Relm turned her back. She heard him sigh, and the door closed.

Now that just left one.

“Canis, I want you to-”

But a mabari was a far harder sell than two dwarves and a former slave. Canis huffed before laying down, pressing all his weight to the floor, almost daring Relm to try dragging him out the door.

“ _Canis-_ ”

A low growl was her answer. He wasn’t budging.

“ _Fine_! Just stay there and don’t listen to me for all I fucking care! I don’t-” Her explosive rant died the moment she saw his ears droop and press against the back of his head. Guilt choked her up. With a rasped out apology, she dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. “He knows everything. And what did I do but run out of there like a coward?”

Canis whined, gently placing his head in her lap. He stared up at her with his big brown eyes, never flinching, not even when a few tears hit his nose. Relm scrubbed at her face with one hand, the other scratching behind Canis’ ears. “I couldn’t face them, since Maker only knows what they think of me now. Sebastian must believe I’m a heretic, and Isabela probably has written me off as crazy. Aveline... she technically has to report me, you know. New laws and all.” Whether or not Aveline actually would remained to be seen, but right now, it felt like the least of her problems.

“And Fenris…” A shudder wracked her body. Why he even wanted to talk at all baffled her. “I wonder, if it hadn’t been for Danarius, would he have wanted to come after me? If the others hadn’t been involved, would he have?” Perhaps it was unfair of her, but it crossed her mind, all the same.

She pushed herself to her feet, pressing her hand against her injury as she tried pouring more healing magic into it. The initial injury hadn’t been serious, just a long slice from a sword, but having left it untreated to deal with Danarius, spear him like the ugly boar he was, and then run through the city, the injury had torn open wider. Her mana levels were low, but she called on what little she had to close it up as she climbed up the stairs. “I need a bath.” Between being shoved into a storage room full of cobwebs, the battle, and worst of all, having been touched by Danarius, she felt disgusting. It had only been a brief moment, but the memory lingered, and she wanted to be rid of it.

 

* * *

 

After a thorough scrubbing and a change of clothes, Relm felt… well, even saying _human_ seemed a stretch, but she was a bit better than before. Now, however, she was left with a big, almost empty mansion and her thoughts. Normally she’d busy herself with work or something distracting, but her exhaustion made it difficult to even walk around the house. Sleep was out of the question as usual.

She sat down at her desk chair, and curled up into a ball. Canis whined, watching her from his usual spot in front of the fireplace. Consumed with her thoughts and fears, Relm sat there for hours, staring blankly at the wall. A part of her knew this wasn’t helping at all, but what else was there to do but sit, think, and wait for a moment that might not even come?

It felt like she’d gone into a trance. When it broke, it was already dark outside. Relm rubbed at her eyes. Her thoughts still persisted; she needed some outlet. It was then she noticed a blank sheet of paper was laid out on her desk. Why it was there, she couldn’t even remember, but she found herself picking up a quill and dipping it in ink. This worked before, when she struggled with how to tell Fenris the truth. But this time, she had another “recipient” in mind.

_Carver,_

_Fenris knows. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. He wanted to talk, but I didn’t give him the chance, and now I might not see him again._

While she had no intention of actually sending it to Carver (why worry him), writing out what happened and her fears on what was to come helped her sort her thoughts. If nothing else, it kept her occupied, even if only for a few minutes. _He’s going to leave. What am I going to do? What will happen to me?_ On and on she wrote, more honest with her brother in that letter than she ever had been face to face.

_And, above all, how did I screw this all up so monumentally?_ she wondered as she stopped writing, having run out of space. _If I do nothing, bad things happen. If I try to stop them, something bad still happens. I try to protect the people I love and they get hurt or die. I try to be happy with someone, and I chase them away. It’s like everything I touch, I ruin._ Perhaps that was why even her own soul mate couldn’t stomach being with her. Eventually, some way or another, the people around her disappeared or got hurt. Was it only a matter of time before the others left, too?

She threw the quill to the side, disgusted with herself. _Oh stop it with the pity party. You have no one but yourself to blame for this mess._ If only she had gathered her courage sooner and told him. _Or more like ‘if only Aveline had yelled at you sooner and forced you.’_ But none of it mattered now. At best, Fenris would come – she didn’t know when – and say his good-byes. Danarius was dead, and he was finally free. He had no reason to stay in Kirkwall any longer. She’d been dreading this moment. And yet, the constant state of pain she was in had snowballed into near agony, and as usual, she still felt a horrible need to go seek him out and beg him to stay. At that point, with her dignity in tatters, she honestly wondered if it would come down to that. She could practically picture the disgust on his face, and the way he’d turn his back on her as she screamed for him to come back.

She sniffled.

A sharp jab of pain grew at the base of her skull. Before she realized what was happening, it spread throughout her head. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to burst under the pressure. _Please don’t-_

It came with the force of a punishing blow. With a violent spasm, her body jerked off the chair and crashed to the floor as pain radiated down her spine and raced through her body. Spasm after spasm tore through her, making her shriek and thrash on the floor. “Maker, make it _stop_ ,” she choked out.

Canis whined and hurried over to her, butting his head against her. He tried pressing part of his body down on hers, but the force of the seizure managed to even buck his bulk off. As Hawke screamed and clawed at the floor, fingers digging for purchase, he began to panic and barked. Even with his intelligence, this was beyond him. He whined loudly before reattempting to hold Relm still. Yet again, he was thrown off.

Someone knocked at the door.

Relm would have worried who it was, but another sharp paroxysm shot through her system, leaving her mind reeling and unable to form words.

Canis knew an opportunity when it came knocking. He ran up to the door and started barking frantically, scratching at the frame. Relm opened her mouth to order him to stop, but instead, all that came out was a scream as her body seized up brutally, forcing her back to arch off against the floor.

With her eyes screwed shut from the pain, Relm didn’t see what happened, but she _did_ hear the distinct _crack_ of wood splintering and something metal falling to the floor, followed by the sound of the door banging open. Hurried footsteps ran towards her.

“ _Hawke_!”

_Fenris._ She wanted to say something, anything, but all she could manage was a muffled groan.

Her eyes wrenched open in time to see him toss something on the desk before he bent down next to her, pulling her up off the floor. “What’s doing this? Canis, go get Anders and-”

Relm thrashed her head from side to side. Anders couldn’t help. This episode had to ride itself out and-

-just like that, it stopped. Relm gasped, panting for air as the pain subsided rapidly. It stood to reason, she realized. Those episodes happened in reaction to her soul not getting what it needed, and what it needed was now holding her up and looking particularly worried.

“It’s passed,” she said breathlessly. “I’m fine. Just – just give me a moment.”

Fenris helped her sit in her chair, hands lingering over her briefly to make sure she was steady. The contact, however brief, was wonderful, and Relm ached when he let go. _That might be the last time we ever touch. And it was to help me into a chair like some old woman who had fallen._

“What was that?” he asked, scanning her face.

“Bit of a spasm.”

“That was far more than a mere spasm. Hawke, _what_ was that?”

Her shoulders hunched. “…an episode. Some kind of, I don’t know, seizure? Happens from time to time. Nothing to do but ride them out. Anders couldn’t help when the last one hit. Nothing does.” Nothing but Fenris.

“So that’s what happened the other night. Why have you been-” His brow furrowed when she looked away, but the gesture answered his half-formed question readily enough. “It’s because of me.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” Relm refused to let him take the blame. “Just my soul throwing a temper tantrum.”

“How long has this been happening?”

She wanted to squirm in her seat. “Months. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Fenris got to his feet, and began his usual pacing. Relm watched, noting with a confused frown that his sword wasn’t on him. He wasn’t wearing his armor either: just a loose white tunic and his usual black breeches. _Odd. He never leaves the house without it…_

“So I’m to understand,” he said, a shade of fury in his tone that made Relm sink into her seat, “that you’ve hidden something this enormous from me for years; continued to do so even after we parted which resulted in you losing sleep, weight, and set off these episodes that wrack you with pain; and convinced you to go after my old master by yourself in some bid to protect me?” That fury lit his eyes. “And all you say is it’s nothing you cannot handle?”

“What do you want me to say?” Relm snapped, feeling cornered. “Do you _want_ me to admit I’m not okay? That it’s been an absolute nightmare for me these past months? Because it has been, but I didn’t want to burden you with it! I made my choice. The last thing I wanted was to drag you down with it.”

His mood shifted sharply, turning from anger to something akin to suspicion as he said, “And what is it that you want, Hawke?”

This was not how she pictured their conversation playing out. All of the answers she anticipated giving weren’t helpful. She tucked her legs up against her, toes curled tightly as she thought over that doozy of a question. There was so much she wanted, but knew she could not have. Yet there _was_ one thing she wanted above all else, more than to have Fenris as her own. Something she’d wanted ever since the dreams started, all those years ago.

Voice raspy from her earlier screams and wavering from fear, she said, “I want you to be happy.” As Fenris stared in numb shock, she continued, more confidently, “Ever since I was nine, I wanted to see that little elven boy in my dreams happy. A lot has changed, but that hasn’t. I want you to be happy, wherever that happiness leads you.” Her throat tightened, and tears stung her eyes. “And – and with whomever that happiness leads you to.” Not her, she knew. Not anymore. But so long as he was happy, that was enough. It had to be.

For a moment, Hawke thought Fenris was turning to leave and storm right out the door. Her heart leapt into her throat, but before she could find the courage to speak, her fears were allayed when instead he simply walked over to the fireplace and leaned against it. “Happiness. Wherever I want to go. Is that what it means to be free?” He made a frustrated sound. “It is what I wanted, and even apparently what you wanted for me. Yet it does not feel as it should.”

Her brow lifted in surprise. “I know I haven’t made things easy the past few days, but I thought you’d be dancing for joy with Danarius dead.” If she were in a better frame of mind, _she_ certainly would have been. Watching his throat burst out from his neck, and his body fall like a sack of potatoes to the floor satisfied her in ways that bordered on disturbing. Those miserable years and all the nightmares they brought had finally been avenged.

“I would have thought so. I thought if I didn’t need to run and fight to stay alive, I would finally be able to live as a free man does. But how is that?” He waved his hand, a gesture of helplessness and confusion over a dilemma he did not anticipate. “My sister… I’m nothing to her, and I _have_ nothing… not even an enemy.”

_You have friends,_ she wanted to say. But as valuable as friends were, they weren’t much help here. Without a purpose, Fenris felt adrift. She understood all too well. “Maybe that just means there’s nothing holding you back.” _From leaving. From moving on with your life._

“No,” he murmured, almost too low for her to hear. “I suppose there isn’t.” Something thick coated the air suddenly, a tension that stretched with the silence that filled the room. Canis, watching from the entryway, whined.

“Hawke. I… there’s been much to ruminate on since last night. It took some time before I even considered believing you.” He nodded to something on her desk. “That helped quite a bit.”

Relm turned, and when she saw what he gestured to, her stomach felt like it dropped to her feet. Her sketchbook laid on the desk, tossed there in a hurry by Fenris when he came in. “Where did you-”

“Your home was burgled last night by a certain dwarf.”

_“Varric,”_ Relm hissed. “I can’t believe he - you weren’t supposed to… Maker’s balls.”

“It was for the best that I did. I might not have believed anything otherwise.”

She turned back to him, watching his face for any sign of a lie or… something. It seemed impossible that he would believe her, after everything he’d said about soul mates. “You… really _do_ believe me?”

He nodded slowly. “As difficult as it has been, there’s little arguing the evidence. But there is something I need to know.” Even from her seat, she could see his throat bob as he struggled with asking his question. “Us being… was that the only reason you had anything to do with me? Is that all I am to you?”

This was exactly what she feared happening. Nonetheless, he deserved to know the truth. Carefully she untangled her legs and let her feet rest on the floor. If she was going to face this, she would do so with some modicum of dignity and not curled up, scared, like a child. She owed that to them both. “I won’t lie. It’s a big part of the reason why I wanted to get to know you, at first. For seventeen years, I saw another life in my dreams. All those things I saw through your eyes, heard through your ears, and felt through your skin, they shaped me and were a part of my past, for good and ill. Still, it felt like you only existed in my mind and, for all intents and purposes, you did. But then, suddenly, there you were, standing in front of me that night. You were real. I could reach out and touch you and talk to you. Of course I wanted to get to know you.”

“Did you not already know most things about me?”

“You’d be surprised at how much I didn’t know. Sure, some of what you told me I already knew and just played dumb to keep up appearances. In the grand scheme of it, though, I only saw a fraction of your life. And much of that time was spent in slavery as opposed to how you are now, years after you fled from it. Seeing things through you is one thing, but actually talking to you? I learned a lot.” About himself, about how he saw the world and the people in it. Despite their differences, she learned a lot from him. “I was so happy to get to know you as a person normally would. To see what made you laugh, smile, or even what upset you.” The emotional weight of her words made her look down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. “All that I already knew, coupled with what I learned, they all made me fall in love with you. And, before you ask: yes, a part of it’s tied to us being mates. I won’t deny it. That’d be like me denying being a mage. It’s a part of me, and a part of us. It laid the foundation, but so much of what I feel sprung from what I’ve learned about you these past few years. Yes, you’re my – you’re my soul mate, but you’re Fenris, too. You’re your own person with wants and hopes. Both of those identities are important to me, and are what I love.”

His gaze grew distant as he became lost in his thoughts. Relm knew what those little quirks of his brow and twitch of his lips meant: he was struggling with something. As she watched him, she wondered if he was unable to determine whether or not to believe her. After all, she lied to him for years. Why _should_ he start believing her now? “I understand if you don’t trust anything I say,” she said, snapping his attention back to her. “Though I swear I wasn’t being malicious in my deception, I did deceive you, all the same. I violated your trust, and I’m sorry. All I ask is that you don’t hold it against Varric, too. If he had his way, you’d have known a while ago.”

“I certainly did not give you reason to tell me. Even though I can claim ignorance in many regards, I’m not faultless in this. You suffered, and I did nothing to address it.”

“Why would you have? I did everything in my power to try and hide it. Barring that, it was my fault. I made mistakes, and I have to live with them.” She sighed, leaning her elbows on the tops of her thighs. “It seems like a cruel joke, doesn’t it? Here we met in this city that actively murders soul mate believers, and then you have to find out you’re paired with the person that represents everything you hate.”

She expected he would understand. Instead, she was met with something akin to anger. “What do you mean?”

“Look at me. I’m an apostate, one that has power and influence, with the Chantry’s blessing to live outside the Circle. I believe in soul mates and I helped out the resistance group here fighting for that belief. I’ve done blood magic, albeit not willingly. And I hid something from you because I was too afraid to face the truth and give you the chance to decide your fate.” When it came down to it, honestly, she determined she was a pretty horrible person. She wanted to cry – she’d been fighting tears nearly the whole time – but she refused to do so. “I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better, and I hope someday you’ll find it.”

“ _Hawke._ ” He sounded as if he were pleading. “I do not hate you. I could not. I…” Whatever he wanted to say, he refrained. Whether he thought better of it or just simply was unable, Hawke couldn’t decide. His expression became hard to decipher as he considered her, long and hard.

She had no idea what he could be mulling over for so long. Minutes ticked by, and Relm felt ready to lose her mind. _Please just get this over with,_ she wanted to say. Perhaps he struggled with finding the right words before they parted. It was kind of him, kinder than she was expecting, and probably than she deserved.

Just as she was about to beg him to say something, Fenris’ eyes lifted and met hers. Where there was once doubt, now there was determination. The tension evaporated as Fenris straightened, his mind made up. Relm’s hands tightened against her knees, hoping to keep them from shaking. _This is it. He’s going to-_

“There’s one more thing to address,” he said quietly but with an unshakeable conviction. “We have never discussed what happened between us that night – almost two years ago now.”

_Why_ was he bringing that up? Was he trying to rub salt in the already gaping wound? Relm’s mouth flopped open, like a fish struggling for air. “I… I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it. What was there to say?”

“You said in your letter that you scared me away, but that’s not what happened.” Fenris shook his head. “It was never you. You did nothing wrong. My own fear is to blame.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off with, “No. It was me, and I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me. I deserved no less.” He pushed himself up off his perch against the fire place. “But it isn’t better, only worse. You suffered for my cowardice. I should have asked for your forgiveness a long time ago.”

Something very dangerous began to grow in her: _hope_. Borne out of desperation, no doubt, and thus Relm did everything she could to squash it. _Don’t be stupid. He’s tying up loose ends, that’s all._ “I don’t understand, though. If it really wasn’t because of me, then why did you leave?”

“I thought about the answer a thousand times. Part of it was the pain the memories brought up, and having them snatched away from me. It was too much. But there was more, and now that I know what I know, I can finally explain it.” He glanced away nervously. “I felt something… powerful. Something wrapped up around you that beckoned me closer, to something far beyond my understanding. I had never felt that way before and yet I simply wanted to drown in it and never resurface. I left because I couldn’t face it.” Fenris curled in his lip in a silent snarl, directed at himself. “I was a coward.”

“Fenris-”

He pressed on, “If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt.”

She wanted to tell him he had every right to be afraid of how he felt that night. Yet, those last words tantalized her, cruelly so. _Is he baiting me on purpose? Why does he want me to know how he felt back then? How is that – does he really want me to suffer that much?_ Hawke choked out a sob, head bent to try and cover the tears she feared would break loose. Despite her better judgment, she couldn’t help but ask, “What would you have said?”

A moment of quiet passed before Fenris bent down in front of her. So reluctantly, she looked up and met his stare. It was soft but sure as he said, “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

An emotional dam had built up over months since Fenris left her that night. All her pain, sorrow and regret had been held back by a wall of willpower. There were occasional leaks that led to moments of weakness, but she always kept the worst of it back. That wall began to crack as hope grew. Relm knew she needed to get it under control, and fast. It would destroy her otherwise. “Why are you telling me this?” She wiped at her nose, pushing herself flat against the back of her chair. “Why are you doing this to me? To know you felt that way back then, but unable to do anything about it now. I know it’s not your intention, but – oh Maker, it’s getting my hopes up.” Tears leaked onto her face and into her voice. She stubbornly tried to fight both. “Please don’t do that to me. Please just-”

“Hawke.” He reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. Hawke tried to resist, but the contact was too irresistible – and she too desperate – for her to ignore it. She leaned heavily against his palm. “I’m telling you this because it’s still true.”

The crack in the dam widened further as hope stretched and pulled. Relm shook her head rapidly. “No, no that doesn’t make any sense. You said – you said it wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth the price.” She sucked in breaths between gritted teeth, fighting for any shred of composure as the tears fell rampant. “You were right. The lack of choice, being bound… It’s just caused misery. Look at what it’s done to the people here. I think I always knew, I just didn’t want to admit it. That’s why I never wanted – I never expected you to-”

“Look at me, Relm.” Now both his hands cradled her face. Reluctantly, she did as told. He held her stare with a quiet ferocity. “If there is another moment that I would go back and change, that would be it. I didn’t _understand_ back then. Yes, I’ve seen the pain it brings, and the price is indeed high. Are soul mates worth the risks they come with? I do not think I am wise enough to answer that. But I know this: _you_ are worth it. If there’s a future to be had in this, I would walk into it gladly at your side.” He pushed himself up, leaning over her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Just like he used to do. “I am yours, now and always, if you’ll have me.”

And the dam burst.

Over eighteen months’ worth of bottled up heartache, want, and hopelessness poured out of her as she crumpled in on herself. But it was more than just that. It was the burden of years of keeping this secret now finally lifted off her shoulders. It was the relief of knowing the monster was finally dead, and that Fenris was finally safe and _free_. It was knowing that despite Fenris knowing the truth and everything she feared coming to pass, he wanted to be with her.

She wept, heaving out body-wracking sobs that echoed through the room. Fenris bundled her up against him as he sat back onto the floor, holding her close as she cried and cried and _cried._ She gulped and gasped for air, but each attempt was only met with more wracking sobs that at times sounded more like screams. Her face pressed hard against the side of his neck as her arms wrapped tightly around him, fingers digging into him desperately for purchase.

“I hurt you terribly,” Fenris murmured into her hair. “I hope you can forgive me, someday.”

What she wouldn’t have given to assure him that this was her own doing, but words weren’t going to come. Nothing could stop this now. All she could do was let it run its course. How long that took, she didn’t know. Minutes, or maybe hours. Throughout it all, Fenris never moved or complained. He just held her and rubbed her back and arms, trying to soothe her.

Eventually, the tears subsided, and her breathing evened out. The storm had passed, leaving her drained and unable to even keep her eyes open. There was so much to say, and yet, her body was having none of it. The exhaustion she’d ignored and tried to outrun for months had finally caught up to her.

Fenris’ nose brushed against hers. She returned the gesture, though only barely. He shifted, getting to his feet, and then she was in the air, held tightly in his arms.

“Wh…”

“Bed,” he answered. “You’re beyond exhausted.”

She groaned half-heartedly as he began walking. For once, she had good reason to stay up. If she could just-

Fenris huffed out a sigh. “Stop fighting it.” Then, more gently, after he kissed her forehead, “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep, Hawke.”

She already was well on her way. With a quiet yawn, she settled against him, and surrendered to sleep. Just before it overtook her, one last thought registered: _the pain’s gone_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen chapters later, the angst parade has finally come to an end. While it was fun, good riddance to it. (but no, that doesn't mean the story won't be free of angst from here on out. remember there's endgame coming). Now Relm can get some damn sleep.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! See you next update~


	38. Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the other shoe never drops. Sometimes things actually work out.
> 
> Relm and Fenris spend the day together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than normal. But I'm back with another chapter for you. Warnings for fluff and some smut: two things this fic hasn't seen in awhile. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy~

Relm slept like the dead. The city could have exploded and she’d have been none the wiser for it.

It felt strange to wake up without a hangover or a sleep draught-induced fog, but stranger still to roll over and meet the press of a warm body against hers. Still sleep-muddled but inexplicably drawn to that warmth, she nestled closer. An arm wrapped around her and held her close. The comforting touch nearly lulled her back to sleep, until a sharp moment of clarity made her eyes fly open and her head snap up.

Fenris looked at her curiously. “Good morning.”

“Oh.” Almost unable to believe he was real, Relm reached up and grazed his chin with her fingertips. He smiled a little, leaning towards her touch. Her fingers slid up further, cupping his cheek. He _was_ real, and she marveled at it. He was there, in her bed, and she in his arms. “You stayed.”

“I said I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“You did.” He kept his word. It brought her back to that night, when he left. This was how it should have gone, and she realized then why this moment was nearly bringing her to tears. This was Fenris trying to make up for what happened. They could start where they had left off, and move forward, like the past year and a half had all just been some ungodly nightmare. Relm let out a shaky little laugh. “Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep well?”

He nodded, but something else concerned him. He peered at her. “Are you-”

“I’m okay. No really, I am,” she said when his brow furrowed. “It’s not an encore of last night, I promise.” Maker, she couldn’t believe she had bawled all over him like that. “I’m sorry about that. That was, ah, not quite what I thought would happen.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” His thumb rubbed circles against her back. “Are you feeling better? You certainly seemed to have slept well.”

“Best sleep I’ve gotten in a while.” Longer than she wanted to admit.

“Good.”

Then came the awkward silence. Relm almost wanted to laugh, if only to break the tension. But she knew why it was there, and it was only fair that she take the next step. Fenris shouldered the enormous task of starting it last night. Now it was on her to proceed. As much as she just wanted to keep lying next to him, secure in his arms, she knew they needed to talk. “Fenris, about last night…”

“I meant every word.”

It amazed her how well he could read her. She scooted up so they were eye to eye. “I just – are you _sure_? I meant it, too, when I said I didn’t expect anything from you. If you need more time to-”

His lips were pressed against hers before she even realized he had moved. Fingers threading through her hair, he coaxed her closer. She melted against him, nearly groaning as the kiss deepened. It felt like home and tasted of sweetness and a hint of wine. That old, familiar haziness settled over her mind as their tongues slid over each other’s, relief and longing mixed into one. Teeth clacked together as they both grasped for more. Only their need for air made them part, gasping lightly as their foreheads touched.

“All right then,” Relm said in a rushed breath. “That answers that.”

His fingers roamed over her, dragging along her skin. As they wound their way back to her face, he gently brushed some of her hair from her eyes. “It will take me some time to come to terms with the idea of us being…” He steeled himself. “Soul mates. It does not make me want to be with you any less.”

“I understand. It must be a lot to adjust to.” Fenris had learned the truth, confronted Danarius, and then faced her, all in the span of barely more than a day. He was handling it exceptionally well, all things considered.

“It is. Thank you for understanding.”

She brushed his nose with hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck, cherishing every inch of contact. Her heart fluttered at his dimpled smile. It’d been a rare sight anymore, just as hard to come by as the one she was wearing, too. The moment felt too perfect to not be kissing him, so that was exactly what she did.

Each stroke of his tongue, and every caress of his fingers across her skin loosened the knots of tension and heartache she’d carried since the night he left. The raw wounds on her soul finally began to heal as they wrapped themselves around each other, refusing to relinquish their hold, even when they were forced to break apart for air. Their breaths intermingled briefly before they desperately came back together. Relm’s mind went into a tailspin as she kissed him hungrily, giving as much as she was taking, yet still wanting more. She shifted to be closer to him still, as if it were somehow possible, and wound up laying on top of him, straddling him. Fenris groaned.

Over eighteen months apart, they were now starving for contact, desperate to make up for lost time. But the kissing and touching was not enough. Need flooded them, fueling their kisses into biting, desperate gestures that left lips swollen and red. They pulled and tugged at clothes, fingers touching every bit of exposed flesh. For a brief moment, Relm worried that they might be taking this a bit too fast. But whatever modicum of self-control she had evaporated when Fenris shoved his hand between her pants, his fingers roughly pressing against her folds, seeking her clit. She whimpered when he found it. He pressed and rubbed mercilessly, leaving her lips to suck and nip at the pulse point against her throat.

“ _Fenris,_ ” she gasped. “Oh, please.”

Then something within them both just _snapped._

A fury overcame them, their souls pulling so strongly towards each other that they forgot everything else but each other and a screaming need to come together. _Now._ Clothes were torn off with no regard to their state or where they landed. Teeth grazed over sensitive skin, leaving marks in their wake. Just as the last of their garments hit the floor, Fenris’ lips roughly captured Hawke’s. So caught up in that kiss, she didn’t notice where his fingers trailed until she felt them push past her folds. She cried out against his lips as two of his digits slid into her, curling against her walls and making her hips buck. As his fingers started fucking her relentlessly, his thumb pressed against her clit, pushing against it in tandem with his fingers. Relm’s hips jerked against his fingers until an orgasm rolled over her without warning, leaving her gasping. Yet even before the aftershocks wore off, her hips were pressing down, seeking him.

“Relm. My Relm.” Fenris gripped his shaft, stroking it twice before positioning it against her. He pushed up just as she pushed down, and they both groaned in unison when he entered her.

Immediately Relm began rolling her hips against his. Fenris’ hands gripped her hips tightly, sure to leave bruises as he met her, thrust for thrust. The pace quickened at breakneck speed, filling the air with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingled with their grunts and groans. There was nothing gentle about it. It was a furious rutting, pleasure mixed with pain and fueled by a yearning neither could no longer ignore.

Hawke whined, low and needy, as she felt another orgasm rapidly building up. Her arms shook on either side of his head from the effort, her thrusts becoming erratic. Her hips jerked almost violently when Fenris’ fingers reached between them, stroking her. He teased her clit, giving it a few flicks to coax out her climax.

She screamed when it broke, harder than the first, making her see stars as she snapped her eyes shut. Her walls convulsed around Fenris, making him curse something in Tevene. As she was still coming down from her high, he flipped them over and thrust furiously into her as he chased after his own finish, biting down on the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark. His hand fumbled blindly around on the bed, only stopping when it found hers. Their fingers intertwined, a moment of gentleness in the fury of their lovemaking. Her fingers squeezed his; with a shout, he came, pouring into her for what felt like an age until finally, he went limp.

They laid like that for a time, panting hard. Relm tried to remember how to form a coherent thought. She ran his hand through his hair and with monumental mental effort managed to say, “That was, um…”

“Unexpected?”

“Yeah. That.”

He lifted his head from the crook of her neck and pressed his forehead against hers. “Are you hurt? I… was not gentle.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled to reassure him. “Are _you_ okay? I didn’t exactly go easy on you, either.”

“I am fine, though I am not pleased at the lack of control I had there.”

“Neither am I, but I’m hoping that’s a once and done thing. Souls are demanding little shits.”

“What do you mean?”

She reached up and ran a finger down his nose. “I was told souls are always trying to reunite with their other half. Since that would involve us dying in order for that to happen, they settle on what they can get. Physical contact is the best.”

“That does explain the lust, then.” He smiled wryly. “Not that you’re unattractive and that I wouldn’t want you anyway, but I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me.” He brought their still intertwined hands to his lips, kissing Relm’s hand. “I thought myself weak. Now I at least understand there was more going on than I realized.”

“I thought I was weak, too. Most days I wanted to fall apart, and you looked to be handling it so much better than me.”

“I wasn’t having those episodes like you were, but I had to talk myself out of crawling back to you countless times.” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against the back of her hand. “But that’s what I should have done. It would have spared us both a lot of heartache.”

“Hey.” Relm smiled softly, shaking her head. “I certainly could have done more to prevent it, too. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s past us, and we’re together.” What a relief it was to be able to say that. She coaxed him closer until she was able to kiss him gently. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He let out a held breath, smiling in relief to himself. “That’s something I should have said long ago.”

Oh. _Oh._ Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if he loved her, and even if he did, to hear him say that was more than she ever expected. “Happy tears,” she said, knowing he’d be worried. He wiped away her tears all the same, cupping her face.

Hawke didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d gone from a year and a half of misery to indescribable happiness so quickly that her head spun from just thinking about it. There hadn’t been a middle ground; she had swung from one extreme to the next. Eventually, she’d have to take a step back and sort through all that had happened, but for now, she just wanted to stay in Fenris’ arms, and-

Canis whined from somewhere outside the room.

Relm sighed, leaning over to look past Fenris. “He needs to go out, no doubt.” The thought of leaving the house filled her with dread. “And I suppose we should get up. Face the day and all. I’m sure Varric’s worrying, and Maker even knows what the others are thinking at this point.” There was also the issue of Myrella, but that was definitely something she needed to think over first.

“I rather imagine they are concerned as well.”

“If they haven’t written me off yet. Aveline technically has to report me, Sebastian’s probably praying for my corrupted soul, and Isabela… I don’t even know what to guess there.”

“She won’t. And Isabela better not abandon you after what you’ve done for her.” Clearly he had reservations about Sebastian as well, given his shrug. “Sebastian… might be a touch difficult.”

“It sounds so selfish, but I don’t want to deal with any of it right now. I just want to stay here with you all day.”

Fenris tilted his head. Then he smiled a bit wickedly as he traced a finger down the side of her neck. “Actually, I rather like that idea.”

It was so, so tempting. She wanted – no, _needed_ a day off from everything. To just have a day to reconnect with Fenris and give themselves a break. But at the same time, she couldn’t neglect her dog and ignore the others, especially not Varric. If she could just let them know she was okay without having to leave the house…

Her eyes lit up. “You know what, I have an idea.” She nudged him. “Lemme up for a few.”

Fenris rolled off of her, watching as she slid off the bed. Hawke picked up her shirt and tossed it on. It was long enough to fall well past her hips, so she didn’t bother with her panties. Instead, she purposefully strode out of the room. Canis wagged his stump of a tail as he saw her. Relm scratched behind his ears, then beckoned him to follow her.

She went right for her writing desk. Grabbing a quill and blank parchment, she quickly scribbled out a note to Varric, assuring him she was fine, things worked out, and she would tell him all about it… tomorrow. As she let the ink dry, she penned another note, this time to Aveline, asking if she wanted to borrow Canis for the day to help train the recruits. He always enjoyed chewing on their shins.

Once the ink dried, she rolled the notes up and stuffed them into an old leather coin purse. “Here, boy. I need you to get this to Varric, and then Aveline. Hopefully you’ll get to chew on some guard recruits today.” She handed him the pouch. Canis gently took it into his mouth, tail still wagging as he followed Relm to the door.

They both stopped at the sight. In his panic to get inside last night, Fenris had ripped off the doorknob, which now laid on the ground. At some point, after Relm had fallen asleep, he had taken a few dish cloths and stuffed them in the gaping hole left in the wake of the doorknob’s unexpected departure, and then propped the entry way bench, the coat hanger, and another chair against the door to keep it shut.

“He was thorough, I’ll give him that.” Relm chuckled as she moved the furniture away from the door.  She pulled it open, poking her head outside as Canis trotted out. Clouds were rolling in, looking rather dark and ominous in the west. “Crap. Better hurry, Canis. Once you’re done with Aveline, see if you can find Bodahn and the others?”

Canis barked, though it was muffled by the pouch in his mouth.

“Yes. Bring them back home tomorrow. I’ll make sure you get a juicy bone for all this trouble, I promise.”

Tail wagging ever harder, he turned and sprinted off into Hightown, happily almost barreling over poor bystanders. Relm bit back a laugh before she ducked back inside. She closed the door, grabbing the bench and moving it to keep the door shut.

“I apologize about that.”

Relm turned, smiling when she saw Fenris approach her, donned in nothing but pants. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’d have probably blown down the entire door.”

“You do like to be flashy,” he teased with a smile. His arm snaked around her waist, tugging her forward. “So what was your idea?”

“Made Canis a messenger boy. Varric will know everything’s okay – hopefully he’ll spread word – and then Canis gets to chew on new recruits with Aveline.” If she was willing. Hawke sincerely hoped that the events of the past two days hadn’t soured Aveline’s opinion of her forever. “No dog, no distractions, no guilt. I’m a _genius._ ”

She supposed she could have acted miffed when Fenris merely chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Luckily, she was too damn happy. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He made a contented noise, laying his head atop of hers. They held each other in silence, relaxed and peaceful.

Well, until someone’s stomach growled and reminded them it was breakfast time.

“I think a pantry raid is called for,” Relm suggested.

“Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

After a successful raid, the pair ate in Relm’s room, munching on bread, cheese, and some fruit. As they did so, Fenris filled Relm in on what happened after she was kidnapped, from the first unsettling dream conversation to showing up at the tavern to confront Danarius.

“I had no idea if Varania would go through with it or not,” Relm admitted as he finished, polishing off the last of the bread. “When I first saw you in the tavern, I thought she hadn’t. It wasn’t until you didn’t react to what Danarius said that I realized what was going on.”

“We decided to play along with his little scheme until he brought you out. It was too risky before then.”

“Aveline planned the whole thing, didn’t she?”

“Did you expect anything less?”

She laughed. “No, I suppose not.” She leaned over to gather up the plates and piled them on the floor. “It’s not how I wanted that to play out, but I guess it worked out well enough, in the end. I’m sorry you had to find out through a letter.”

“Varric told me everything, including how you were planning on telling me about it. I know you were trying.” He put his arm around her shoulders and brought her close. “And now that we’ve settled things, if you are willing, may we go through your sketchbook?”

“You want to go through it again?”

“Yes. This time with you. I hope you can fill in some blanks.”

“All right.” She got up off the floor, stretching her shoulder that still ached from yesterday. “I can’t vouch for all the earliest drawings,” she said with a chuckle as she headed for the door. “But I’ll do my best.”

The sketchbook was where it had landed last night. Relm grabbed it off her desk and brought it back upstairs. Fenris had moved to the bed, propping up the pillows so they could sit back against them.

They snuggled up, covering their legs with the sheets and the heavy quilt. As Relm opened the sketchbook, a low roll of thunder reverberated outside. She grimaced. “Oh shit. I hope he gets to Aveline before the storm hits. There’s little worse than an excited, dripping wet mabari.”

“Aveline can handle a soaked Canis,” Fenris said. “Which, I’ve always been meaning to ask-”

“Yes, I named him after the Tevene word for ‘dog’. I thought it would be cheeky to introduce him as such when he came with me to Tevinter. Or that was the plan, anyway.”

She didn’t have to look over to know Fenris wore a disapproving glower. “Which… leads me to another, more concerning question. _Why_ were you foolish enough to want to go to Tevinter to free me? Why did your parents even allow the idea?” He paused. “Or – they didn’t know?”

“No, they knew.” Relm dreaded explaining this to him. After last night’s reconciliation, she knew it would be brought up somehow. “My father eventually realized he couldn’t demand that I stay while you suffered like you did. He knew he had to let me try, as much as it terrified him. He died a few weeks before I was to leave, so the plan was scrapped.”

His muscles tensed. A cursory glance saw his jaw tighten. “What did you see?”

“Fenris, does it really matter? I saw a lot of things, and really, it was more the accumulation of those experiences-”

“What,” he said again, his voice low, “did you see that made your father consent to you going?”

Relm struggled with deciding whether or not to look at him when she told him. As hard as it was, she kept her eyes on him as she said, “It was… well, maybe not the first, I don’t know. I hope it was. But it was when Danarius raped you.”

When he looked away, pain and humiliation flashing across his face, Relm reached out to bring him back. “I’m so sorry. At least he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. He can’t lay his hands on you ever again.”

Eventually, after some coaxing, he met her gaze. “I’m sorry you had to see it,” he murmured.

“I’m sorrier that you had to go through it. I at least got to wake up.” Even if left her too shaken up to function for an entire day. “So, yes. It was reckless to want to go to Tevinter, but I didn’t see any other choice. I had to try.” She sighed. “But, like I said, plans fell through. Just as well, I suppose. You escaped a few weeks later.”

Fenris nodded, looking back at the sketchbook. He pressed closer to her as he paged through it. He seemed to be looking for one in particular. After a minute of searching, he found it. It was a portrait of the Fog Warrior that had taken him in.

“…that wasn’t your fault,” Relm murmured, kissing his temple. “He knew what could happen.”

“Urso deserved a better end. An honorable one, after a full life. But he laid down his life for a runaway slave instead.”

Urso. Finally, another name filled in. “He died protecting someone he cared about. As awful as the situation was, I was grateful he was there for you. I just wish he could see you now, knowing that you’re free.” And that she could thank him for what he had done.

“He did say you were waiting for me.” He shook his head bemusedly as he flipped through the pages. “More or less. And I heard your voice, then, too. Shouting for me to run.”

“So you _did_ hear me. You didn’t mention it when you told me about your escape two years ago.”

“I could not quite recall the voice back then. And anyway, I thought it would sound strange that I was hearing voices, so I omitted it.”

“When did you remember?”

“When you told me to run yesterday. It came back to me.”

It hadn’t even occurred to her. Relm sunk back down, leaning her head against his shoulder as she looked at the sketch book. Everything seemed to be coming around full circle. “I’ll explain that story to you another day. For now, let’s go through this.”

It felt surreal to go through the book with Fenris, and yet it also felt right. Starting that sketchbook was the smartest thing young Hawke had ever done. As forewarned, some of the early drawings remained a mystery to her, but enough were clear that together, they helped put together some of Fenris’ childhood.

Still, there were a lot of blanks.

“My father?” he asked as they got into his adolescent years. “I… you haven’t mentioned him.”

“I don’t know what happened to him. He never showed up in my dreams, as far as I could tell. I think he was gone by the time the dreams started for me.”

“So we’ve no idea what his fate is.”

Hawke paused, knowing she was about to step into treacherous territory. “There is _someone_ who might know.”

Fenris’ grip on the book tightened. “You would have me speak with her, after what she’s done?”

“I wouldn’t have you do anything, but I would suggest it, yes.” Relm sighed. “I’m not sweeping what she did under the rug. But unfortunately, there are some answers that only she’s going to be able to provide. What it comes down to, I suppose, is whether or not they’re worth it to you.”

It irked him; she could tell by the way his lips pursed. She turned and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “At least consider it.”

“I will think on it. For now, I’d rather just focus on this, what’s in front of me.” He turned the page, his smile returning at the sketch of Hawke’s family. “Young Carver. Was he as much of a handful as I imagine?”

“And then some. Honestly, Bethany was the golden child. Carver and I made our parents’ hair turn gray early.”

“Somehow I am not surprised.”

“Shush, you.” She poked his side.

After sharing a laugh, they continued their way through the sketchbook. They stopped when they reached the first drawing of Danarius, leering at them from the page.

They were silent as they stared back. Relm wanted to drag her nails across the paper and tear it to shreds, but she knew it needed to stay. It was a marker, and he would always be a ghost in their memories. Destroying his image wouldn’t change that.

“Good riddance,” she murmured. “One less monster in the world.”

“Did you really call him that back then?”

“I did. I had no names, and I refused to call him your master. So, monster it was. The whole household took up that nickname.” The more horror stories unfolded in her dreams, the more venom went into the name. Even her father all but spat it out when he talked about Danarius. “Carver is going to be disappointed he didn’t get to be there for the battle, but all the same, he’ll be pleased to know he’s dead. We really wanted to kill him the night we met you.”

“Carver knows what he did?”

“He knows the worst of it,” she said. “I… woke up screaming more than once. And even when I didn’t, I think they could tell in the morning.” A haunted look, Bethany once described it as. It would dog her throughout the day. “They worried about you. Looking back, knowing that Mother actually did believe me, and maybe even Carver… Bethany and Father certainly did. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but… there were people who cared about you. I just wish we had been able to help.”

Fenris suddenly closed the book, setting it aside before pulling Relm into a hug. “It does mean something to me,” he whispered. “I spent all those years thinking of myself only as Danarius’ property and nothing else. It’s a balm, to be able to revisit that time and at least know there was a family who were concerned about me. It’s more than my own did.”

She wanted to argue that might not be true, but she had no more proof than he did. Frankly, she hated how dark their conversation had turned. So she let it drop, scooting down into the bed and pulling him with.

Rain hit the window, first in sporadic drops, and then increasing in volume until it was a downpour. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room for a split second. A roll of thunder followed shortly behind.

“Okay, now I feel a bit less bad about being a total lazy bum,” Relm admitted as she peeked at the window. “I can’t remember the last time I did nothing all day.”

“I don’t think I ever have,” Fenris admitted. “It _is_ strange.”

“All the more reason to do it.” Relm looked back at him, tracing the outline of his jaw. She was glad to be able to give him that, his first lazy day. Hopefully the first of many (though maybe not _too_ many) to come.

They laid together, quietly enjoying the other’s company, broken up with intermittent conversations about whatever came to mind. Light topics that left them smiling, or even laughing. Eventually, the rain made them drowsy, and they curled up together, letting the rhythmic pitter-patter lull them to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Relm woke up to lips pressed against the side of her neck and fingers roaming over her belly.

Need roiled in her gut, even before she was fully awake. She turned, eyes still half-shut, and met Fenris’ lips with her own, kissing him slowly and languidly. They took their time, stroking and touching wherever they could reach, neither in a rush and just enjoying the moment.

It wasn’t until their lips were stinging and their bodies were all but aching from want that Fenris leaned back, unfastening his breeches and kicking them off. Relm’s whole body felt alight, wound and eager. She groaned when he pressed inside her, hips arching back to meet him. He leaned over her, gently pushing her into the bed, resuming their earlier kisses as he grinded his hips into her, slow but steady.

The pace was almost torturous, drawing out their lovemaking, unhurried and gentle. It felt like hours before she felt that fire burn below her stomach. Too slow, too little, not enough. Relm whined and pleaded with him softly, needing _more_.

“As you wish,” he murmured, reaching under her to tease her orgasm out of her. He rolled and flicked and pushed against her clit. Relm bit her pillow as her climax wound tighter and tighter in her gut. She cried out when it finally broke, the sound drowning out the thunder. Fenris muffled a moan against the back of her shoulder as he thrust a few more times before following after her.

Relm hummed contentedly, nudging Fenris to let up. He slid out of her and propped himself up on his elbows, allowing her to roll over. She smiled, wrapping her arms loosely around him and bringing him close. “I could get used to that kind of wake up.”

“I’d happily oblige you.” Fenris kissed her sweetly. “It’s getting on in the afternoon, and I feared we wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if we kept napping. That, and I wanted you. Two birds with one stone.”

“I applaud your multi-tasking capabilities.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before scooting down and tucking his head under her chin. Relm sank into the bed, holding him close as they laid there, listening to the sounds of the rain and each other’s breathing. They basked in the calmness, neither moving.

“I suppose,” Relm said, finally breaking the silence, “we should consider getting food for dinner.”

“Mm.”

“And there’s some wine in the cellar we can have with it.”

That made him smile.

Relm lazily ran her fingers up and down his back. “And after that… I don’t know. Fuck each other senseless until we pass out? Maybe drink more wine in between?”

“A woman after my own heart.”

“That’s more or less the intention, yes. I do happen to adore it.”

Fenris lifted his head, lips brushing over her chin. “And it is yours. You take far better care of it than I ever have.”

Feeling a little sappy herself, Relm smiled sweetly, brushing some of the hair away from Fenris’ eyes. “You have mine, too. It’s always been yours.”

“And I will endeavor to do better by it than I did before.”

The poor thing _had_ taken a beating over the past year. “I suppose a little TLC might do it some good. You’re off to a cracking start so far.”

“Good.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “I want to see you happy, too. Whatever of that I can give you, you will have it.”

Relm giggled, a mix from his gesture tickling her and at how cheesy they sounded. “Listen to us. We’re such saps. It’s all downhill here from here. Next thing you know, we’ll be calling each other pet names.”

“I _think_ I’ll be able to refrain,” he said dryly.

“Oh, but schmookins! How could you ever-” Relm screeched as Fenris tickled her side. Pinned under him, she had no choice but to take it as he lightly pinched and tickled her skin. Clearly wanting to tempt fate more, just as he let up, she said, “Dearest honeycomb, why would you-” She tried rolling away, but only managed to get her back to him before he groaned in dramatic agony. He assaulted her sides, drawing out more shrieks and laughter from her.

“I’ll honey comb you,” he muttered, lightly pressing his teeth to her shoulder as his fingers danced in warning over more ticklish skin.

“Mercy, I give up!” Still, she giggled as she looked over her shoulder at him. He smiled at her, nothing but adoration and love in his gaze.

“Ah.” She turned so she was facing him, nose to nose. “I don’t want this day to end.”

“Neither do I, but it will. Best enjoy it while we still have the time.”

“I know. Still, I can’t help but worry about tomorrow a bit.”

“About the others?”

“That’s part of it, but…” Thinking of Myrella left a sour taste on her tongue. “There’s a loose end to deal with, too.”

“Ah, yes. What do you intend to do?”

“Kill her. What else? She brought Danarius to our doorstep and put us both in danger. She _knew_ you were my mate, and yet she went ahead with it. After all her rants and lectures about the sanctity of soul mates and how she’d fight for all of us, she goes and does that.” A number of unpleasant curses and monikers hung at the tip of her tongue. She’d wait to hurl them when she next saw Myrella. “Almost managed to get her, back at that tavern. Had my hands around her neck, but Danarius’ men pulled me off.”

Fenris snorted. “I’m surprised he didn’t let you kill her. Perhaps he hoped he could help sow discord in the south through her. I can’t think of any other reason.”

“Well, regardless, he’s dead and she’s next.”

He nodded. “Very well. We’ll deal with her tomorrow. I imagine we both have a few things we’d like to say to her.”

“Oh, very much so. In fact, I think the others may want to come along, too. They got dragged into that mess. I’ll take fault for having gone after Danarius, but she’s the reason he was even here in the first place.” Something told her Varric would want to see it through. They all would. Though… “Anders… might be an issue. He respects her.”

“I would hope he wouldn’t after what she did.” There was that cold, almost disgusted expression he always had whenever they talked about Anders. “But perhaps that’s giving him more credit than he deserves. He doesn’t have to come along, but he doesn’t get a say in it. That woman’s lost her mind, and is a danger. She needs to be dealt with.”

All valid points, even though Relm didn’t want to just ignore Anders’ opinion on the whole thing despite that, as Fenris said, in the end it wasn’t his call. But it was all so very dreadful, and she didn’t want to think about it anymore. “We can save it for tomorrow. For now, I just want to lay here with you. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Wonder at how I’m here with you despite how spectacularly I bungled everything.”

“All things considered, I think you did the best you could.”

“No, I don’t think I did. I was so afraid of everything that I let it take over my life.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Afraid of my secret getting out, afraid of you knowing and what you would do, afraid of what the world might do…  I’m tired of living like that. I’m tired of running from things.”

“It is something we both have suffered from.” Fenris was as familiar with the feeling as she was. “Fear has dictated my actions for years as well. I… do not want to live that way anymore. Maybe it’s time we both moved forward. Together.”

“Together.”

Fenris rolled onto his back, hand extended to her. Relm let him pull her on top of him, nestling close. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Once Myrella is dealt with, we can do that. Nothing to hold us back or make us afraid.”

And this time, she knew, it _would_ happen. No more secrets between them. No more wondering what would happen if Fenris found out, or if the others found out. No more struggling with her soul and simply taking whatever she could get. No more having to say ‘it’s enough’, because it no longer had to be just ‘enough’. She could have more. He was free from Danarius, and she was free from her secret.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Regen, where the hell was the plot?" you might ask. And I would say, in the next chapter because this chapter was a breather chapter. For you, for Fenris and Relm, and honestly for myself as well. It will return, don't you worry. Varric and the others make their reappearance, as well as it being time to kick down Myrella's door. (Literally or figuratively? Stay tuned to see which it is)


	39. Apologies and A Loose End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality sets back in. Relm has apologies to make and a loose end to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this in between bouts of trick or treaters. sorry it's a week later than normal. Hectic schedule and writer's block will do that to a person. Anyway, new chapter for you all! Hope you enjoy~

The morning sun shone brightly through the gap in the curtains. Relm groaned and buried her face into her pillow. Faintly she heard Fenris yawn, and felt the bed shift as he moved. It was a new day, and with it, the end of their interlude.

The prior evening passed by in a whirl of wine and sex, broken up by bouts of conversation and mutually enjoyable silence. They kept each other up half the night, waking up intermittently with a blinding need for the other. The last thing Relm saw before falling asleep (for good) was the first rays of gray-dawn light.

She rolled over and kissed the underside of his jaw in greeting. “Morning.”

“And good morning to you.” He leaned down and kissed her properly.

“We, ah… should get up, I suppose.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She wanted nothing more than to just shut the world out again and lay in his arms all day. But responsibilities won out this time; life called to them from outside the walls of her home. So with great reluctance, they got up and got ready to face the day.

Once dressed and looking presentable, they made for the front door, still barricaded in the absence of a proper door handle. Relm chuckled as they pulled away the furniture. “Bodahn might shit his small clothes when he sees this.”

“I will apologize when I return.”

“No need. Besides, unless they show up in the next few minutes, I suspect you’ll beat them home.”

Fenris slid the coat rack back to its original spot. He kept his back to her as he said, “I… will not be returning here immediately after I get my armor and sword. There is another stop I need to make.”

Relm’s brow lifted in surprise. “Varania?”

He nodded, turning to face her. “I thought about what you said. While I do not anticipate anything being resolved, there are things I want to know. Badly enough that I’ll chance talking with her one more time. I cannot say what will happen beyond that.”

“That doesn’t need to be decided today.” Relm kissed his cheek. A part of her wanted to come along and provide support, but she knew he would want to go alone. This was his challenge to face. “Just do as much as you’re willing. And, if you want to talk about it later, I’ll always be happy to listen.” And to corroborate, if possible.

“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead, cupping her cheek and smiling fondly at her. “I shall return as soon as I can.”

He opened the front door. The couple squinted in the sunlight, and the sounds of bustling Hightown filled the foyer. The bubble of their seclusion had now burst, and they faced the world and its looming problems once again.

Relm sighed wistfully, reaching out and squeezing Fenris’ hand. He smiled, bringing her hand up to his lips. With a little smirk that left Relm’s knees feeling a little weak, he turned and left, strolling out into the city, his hair reflecting brightly in the sunlight before he disappeared amongst the crowd.

After shutting the door (well, mostly; she still had to swing the bench in front of it to keep it shut), Relm wandered into the house, unsure as to what to do with herself. She had no idea if she had time for a quick bath, and she struggled in deciding if she should seek out Varric, or let him and the others come to her. _Would they? I said I’d talk to them today, but what if they’re waiting for some kind of signal? Ugh._

Her wandering led her up the stairs towards the bed rooms. She paused near the door to her mother’s room. Even now, she couldn’t bear to go in. Standing there, thinking back to all that had happened the past two days, a sudden wave of grief washed over her. She missed Leandra desperately in that moment. “I wish you were here so I could tell you everything’s okay. I…”

_“He’ll come back to you… If he’s truly worthy of you, then he’ll return in time.”_

Leandra’s prediction – or was it a final desperate wish? – had come true after all. “You were right. He did come back.” Something about it comforted Relm. It felt like Leandra was still there; she could picture her mother smiling, pleased if not a little smug, at the news. “You’d say ‘Well of course! How could you expect any less? Now, where is that young man so I can meet him?’ Then you’d absolutely mother him to death.” Her heart ached at what couldn’t be. Fenris would never meet her mother, or Bethany or her father. Now there was only herself, and Carver.

“I’ll have to tell Carver about this,” she mused as she walked into her bedroom. “Probably be smug about the whole thing. I’ll never hear the end of it.” But she was all smiles as she made her bed, hands running over the lingering warmth on the bedsheets. She leaned over where Fenris had been; his scent still clung to the fabric.

Just as she finished, a sharp knock emanated from the door.

“And it begins,” she said as she hurried out and down the stairs.

As she reached the bottom and neared the entryway, she saw someone pushing out the dish cloths that had been shoved into the hole left by the door handle. A familiar gloved finger poked its way in and shoved the last rag out. Relm knelt in front of the hole, waiting.

Varric’s eye peered in, but it immediately disappeared as he jumped back and yelled in surprise. Relm burst out laughing as he swore, his voice coming through clearly.

“Sure, let’s give the dwarf a heart attack,” he muttered as Relm kept giggling.

“That’s what you get for peeking,” she said as she swung the bench away and opened the door for him.

He was giving her the stink-eye, but Relm’s smile only widened as she let him in, letting the door swing close behind him. Not bothering with the bench, she let the door remain as it was. Others would be coming soon.

Underneath his playful glare, he was assessing her. Watching for some sign of heartache, Relm figured. But there was none to be found, and she let it show with a soft smilea. “Varric, I’m all right. We talked it out.”

Tentatively hopeful, he said, “He’s okay with everything?”

“More or less. He said he needs some time to come around to the idea, but he still wants to be with me.” He could have all the time in the world, as far as she was concerned.

And just like that, a huge weight lifted off of him. She could see it in the way his shoulders loosened, and the tension seeped out of him. Varric relaxed, and he smirked. “See, what did I tell you? It all worked out just fine.”

“I hear I have you to thank for that in part.” Relm crossed her arms. “Enough for me to forgive you for burgling my house.”

“It was for a good cause!”

“Indeed.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything, Varric. I’m sorry for how much I worried you.”

Varric patted his cheek. “Aw Hawke, you’re going to make me blush. Or cry. Neither of which you want to see. So how about instead you tell me what happened that night. I’m assuming it has something to do with your missing door knob.”

She told him everything that transpired the other night, from sending Bodahn, Sandal and Orana away up until she passed out from exhaustion. Deciding to skim over the details concerning the steamier parts, she began relaying what they did yesterday. But she was interrupted by a knock and a concerned sounding, “Hawke?”

Both turned to find Aveline pushing open the door, brow furrowed in worry. On her heels were the others, some reaching for weapons, expecting the worst.

Relm leaned over and waved to her. “Everything’s fine. Fenris had to make an emergency entrance the other night.”

“You have to give him credit,” Varric chimed in. “Perfect fist-sized hole. The rest of the door is immaculate.”

Aveline, far too experienced with the shenanigans of Hawke and her crew, merely grunted before swinging open the door fully, allowing everyone to walk inside. All wore expressions of concern, though each person displayed it differently. Merrill’s was open and readable, while Isabela hid it behind a smile and giving Hawke a once over, when she thought she wouldn’t notice.

But it was Anders who spoke first, surging forward. “Hawke, whatever you need, I’m here. Whatever Fenris said, it’s-”

“Anders.” Hawke smiled patiently, gripping his shoulders. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I promise. We worked it out.”

He stopped in his tracks, the wind taken out of his sails. “He’s okay with the whole thing?” He sounded incredulous. “After the fit he threw?”

_Something to ask about later._ “Yes. I know everyone has a lot of questions, and I’ve a lot to answer for. Let’s sit in the dining room and we can go from there, okay?”

 

* * *

 

The explanation was delayed when Bodahn, Sandal and Orana returned, Canis in tow. Relm had to handle Bodahn’s dismay over the state of the door, and to assure Orana that she wasn’t in trouble for not returning sooner and making breakfast for everyone. Not that it stopped the elf from bustling into the kitchen and cooking up a storm.

By the time she got all that settled, the others had gotten well and comfortable in her dining hall, chatting amongst themselves. Hawke slumped into her chair, sorely missing the peace and quiet from yesterday. And she missed Fenris, as silly as it was. She wanted to hold his hand to anchor herself in the storm that just rolled into her home.

“Firstly,” she began, leaning on her elbows. “I’m so sorry, everyone. Especially you, Varric, but to the rest of you as well. I’ve… maybe didn’t handle things as well as I could have.”

Like with Varric, she gave a condensed, sexy-less account of the events. It embarrassed her to admit she sobbed all over Fenris when it finally dawned on her that he wanted to stay, but Merrill was quick to assure her that that was probably a good thing, all things considered.

“That’s because you bottle things up, you sod,” Aveline also added. “You pretended everything was okay for over a year. And we went along with it for a time because we hoped it would turn around. But it didn’t.”

“I wish you had told us,” Anders murmured. “But… I get it. It’s hard to talk about something you’re so used to keeping secret. Even now, it’s hard for me to open up about Karl.”

“That’s part of it, yes.” Relm glanced at Aveline, then at Sebastian, who had been quiet for the entire conversation. “I also didn’t want to because it puts you in precarious positions. It’s against the law now in Kirkwall, and-”

Aveline shot her a silencing look. “You really think I’m going to turn you in?”

“You technically have to.”

“I technically could also tell Meredith to shove her sword up her bum. It’s not happening. No one’s turning you in.” The look she then shot Sebastian would have made the knees buckle on a weaker man. “Right, Vael?”

All eyes fell on the exiled prince. The Starkhavener, to his credit, held up under the scrutinizing looks, though he did subtly shift away from Aveline. “These past few days have given me much to contemplate. I’ve prayed for guidance on the matter. I would like to speak with Fenris privately about it, since I am curious as to how he was able to come around. He was far more vocally against the idea than I ever was.”

“Fenris is still adjusting to it,” Relm said. “He said he would need some time to come to grips with it. That isn’t to say you can’t talk to him, but it’s not like he’s now magically convinced that it’s the most wonderful thing and that he was oh so wrong.” Fenris had seen its dark side, and the abuse and suffering it was capable of creating. Relm had only heard of the good; it wasn’t until she spent time in Kirkwall that she began to understand that there were two sides to it. “How long that’ll take and what he’ll wind up concluding, I don’t know. But he said he still wanted to be with me. Frankly, that’s all I care about.”

“That… actually comforts me a great deal. Hawke, I cannot say whether I believe all of this or not-”

“Of _course_ not,” Anders said with a roll of his eyes.

“-but I will not turn you in. The city would not benefit from it. Frankly, it would only worsen things.”

She supposed that was something, though she wished it hadn’t been just for the city’s sake. It stung, but her feelings could wait. Fenris would be best left to handling Sebastian anyway. They were closer, and given that Fenris came from a standpoint of not having believed in soul mates previously, Sebastian would be more inclined to listen to what he had to say about the matter.

“Well, once again I avoid Meredith’s wrath. Lucky me.” Relm forced a smile.

Sensing the need for a change of subject, Isabela waved her hand dismissively. “That’s all well and good, but what really matters is how you got that nice little hickey on your collarbone there.”

Relm’s eyes widened as she looked down at herself. Her collarbone was covered, how did-

The pirate snorted and laughed. “Got you. But clearly you’ve got something to hide under there.” Her grin widened into something mischievous and far too ominous for Relm’s liking. “So. Spill the dirty details.”

“ _No_ ,” Aveline all but shouted. “No, no, and no.”

_Bless you, Aveline._

“Aw come on. You don’t really want to keep talking about all of this depressing shit, do you?”

“I certainly don’t want to talk about how Fenris and Hawke had sex!”

_…I sort of take that back._ Relm buried her face in her hands, face burning hot from embarrassment. “Guys…”

But they didn’t hear her, caught up in their bickering and bantering. Fortunately for Relm, most of the others sided with Aveline. She debated trying to butt in, but before she could, Orana swooped in with breakfast for everyone, putting an end to the brewing argument. Relm thanked her profusely as she served everyone their plates. Sometimes she wondered if she and Bodahn listened at the door, waiting for the right time to intervene…

As everyone dug in, the conversation quieted down. Though not for very long (though thank the Maker, Isabela’s query didn’t spring back up). Instead, Merrill looked over and asked, “Where is Fenris? Weren’t you two here yesterday?”

“Ah.” Relm swallowed her eggs before answering, “He went to get his armor and sword, before going to attempt to talk to Varania.”

Sebastian lifted his head up, as surprised as Relm had been. “He’s going to speak with her?”

“ _Attempt_. No guarantee how it’ll go, but there are some things only she’ll be able to answer.”

“There’s stuff you don’t know?” Isabela asked.

It felt so strange to be talking about it so openly. Relm’s instinct was to shut it down and give a non-answer, but she reminded herself it wasn’t necessary. “Plenty. I only saw a fraction of his life. And the first… oh, I don’t know, nine years of his life? I didn’t see. I also lacked names and at times context for what I saw. Varania could supply those answers far better than I ever could.”

Isabela nodded, and a look passed between Relm’s friends. Narrowing her eyes, she ventured to ask, “What?”

Anders made a gesture with his hand, indicating he would speak after he finished chewing and swallowing. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, “Yesterday we all met up in the morning, before that storm hit. We were going to find you – mind, this was before Canis showed up with your note.”

Relm glanced over at Varric. He nodded slightly, confirming what Anders was saying.

“So we held off after we got it. Figured if Canis wasn’t panicking, then we had no reason to. Everyone had – and still has – a lot of questions, but a lot of it is about Fenris’s past and what you saw.”

Her back went ramrod straight. “I’m not-”

“We know,” Anders cut in. “That’s what we discussed. There’s a sort of unspoken rule amongst the resistance group. You don’t ask the dreamers about their mate’s past. That policy is being adopted amongst us. We won’t ask, not unless you volunteer it.”

“Which, knowing Fenris,” Aveline said, “and from what little we’ve heard, it’s probably better that we don’t pry.”

For all that they could be a dysfunctional mess, it was in these moments that made Relm love her friends all the more fiercely. They were nosy busybodies at times – Varric being the most notorious offender – but they understood this was not a boundary to be crossed. Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. “Thank you. There’s… a lot of awful shit that happened that I can’t speak about. Suffice it to say, Fenris isn’t exaggerating his experiences.” She looked down at her plate, mostly empty save for bits of egg and bacon. “I can take a gander at one of the things I’m sure everyone’s wondering about, and I’ll say this: yes, I dreamt about when he got those markings and yes, it’s as bad as he says. I’d argue it was worse, honestly.”

“Did you feel it?” Merrill whispered.

Relm nodded. “Woke up in so much pain I vomited. Got jumpy whenever someone touched me for a few days after that.” Every now and then she relived that night in her dreams. She could still feel the fire under her skin in the morning.

Varric shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t his first time hearing this, but clearly, it didn’t get easier with the retelling. “…can’t we go back to Rivaini trying to get all the smutty details out of Hawke?”

And with that, the tension in the air released as Isabela happily chimed in, repeating her request as Aveline groaned loudly. Anders shot Varric the dirtiest glare he could manage.

Relm eventually promised Isabela, after a lot of back and forth, that she’d fill her in one night at the Hanged Man over drinks. This pleased the pirate, and she dropped the subject. More banal topics cropped up as everyone finished their meal.

Hawke said little, more content to just listen and enjoy the company. She caught Varric glancing over at her, and they shared a smile, a mutual sense of relief that the worst had passed.

Then she felt it, that irresistible tug in her soul. Her head lifted a little. The tug pulled at her again, more strongly this time. Without realizing it, her face broke out into a grin. _He’s back._

As the others began looking at her quizzically, Varric chuckled. _He_ knew what it meant. Leaning his head to the side, he called out, “Hey elf! You missed breakfast!”

Moments later, Canis barked excitedly. He ran past the dining hall, greeting someone enthusiastically. Fenris told him to calm down, though Relm suspected he was lavishing attention on him all the same. Shortly thereafter, he stepped into the dining room, now donned in his armor and his sword strapped to his back. “Ah, and the invasion’s taken place.”

“Friendly invaders.” Varric wiggled his fingers in greeting. “Heard you had a chit chat with your sister?”

Fenris very purposefully avoided the question as he took a seat next to Hawke. Tension rolled off of him as he stared down at the table, hands laid out in front of him. Relm reached out and squeezed his hand. “If you’re not ready to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“I… yes. I need a little time.” He returned her gesture, his smile returning. Which, in turn, caused Hawke to smile as well. She couldn’t resist the dimples.

“Awwww.” Isabela grinned widely. “Look at you two. All lovey-dovey.”

Merrill found it just as cute, smiling sweetly with her chin resting on her hands.

“I’m gonna get a toothache looking at you two,” Varric groused good-naturedly.

Relm sighed. “I suppose this is the part where we start getting needled.”

“Oh, you bet.”

Once again, almost as if knowing a distraction was needed, Orana swept into the room with a plate full of food for Fenris. Before he could insist he was fine, she set it down in front of him, smiling before quickly walking out. “We can wait,” Hawke offered when he stared down at the food, then at the others. “We still haven’t talked about everything.”

She tried so hard not to look at Anders. However, the other mage picked up on her meaning. From the far end of the table, she saw Anders tense. The feel-good atmosphere from before immediately dissipated.

“You mean Myrella.”

_Here we go._ Hawke lifted her eyes and met Anders’s stare. “Yes.”

Fenris shoveled into his food as Anders crossed his arms, stern in expression. “Actions borne out of desperation, Hawke. She shouldn’t have done it-”

“No,” Relm said coldly. “She shouldn’t have. But she did, and she’s not getting off lightly for it. Anders, if she did that to you and Karl, and if I was sitting in your place, about to tell you that you should reconsider going after her, what would you do?”

“I’m not about to suggest you not go after her. But I know what you plan on doing when you get there. If we lose her, everything we’ve worked for falls apart.”

“Are the others so incompetent that they can’t run things?” Relm cocked her head to the side. “And what do you suggest I do? Tell her that it wasn’t very nice what she did?”

Her answer was a hard stare and, “I would have you consider the ramifications of your actions beyond yourself. Think of the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Fingers curled against the table, nails digging into the wood. Only Fenris’s thumb rubbing circles over her hand kept her from lunging across the table. Though, despite his calming presence, he was leveling a terrifying glare in Anders’s direction as well. “She brought that monster here. I could have died, and Fenris could have been forced back into slavery. Because of what _she_ did. And you want me to think of the fucking _greater good_?”

Aveline knew this wasn’t going to go well, so she quickly cut in before spells started flying. “Why don’t we at least give Myrella a chance to explain herself first? I’d like to know _why_ someone who claims to want to help soul mates thought doing this was a good idea. Answers first, and then killing later if called for.” She glanced between the two feuding mages. “Sound like a plan?”

“Fine,” Relm muttered. “I have a few things to say to her anyway.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take long to track down Myrella.

At first, Relm was surprised that Anders allowed them to so easily traipse into the sewers below Darktown to the resistance group’s hideout. But she quickly found out why when they arrived to find the place empty.

“They figured you’d come,” he explained as they walked the now empty rooms. “And that you wouldn’t come alone to confront one person.”

Relm bristled but didn’t respond. Fenris walked alongside of her, seething in his own quiet fury. Both of them knew better than to respond, as much as they wanted to. She reached out for his hand, squeezing it tightly when their fingers intertwined. Both used the comforting touch of the other to keep them from saying, or doing, something they’d regret.

Eventually they came upon a large set of doors covered in magic seals. A note was nailed to the door. Relm beat Anders to it and ripped the note off the nail. “It’s for me,” she said before he could protest.

                _Champion,_

_She’s all yours. She knows you’re coming. We do too. Can’t bring ourselves to face her, but we’re not going to stop you, either. She only has herself to blame. We didn’t know she found a magister. Definitely didn’t know she was coming for you and yours. It’s your right to deal with her how you see fit._

_Thanks for everything. Sorry it came to this._

_P.S. Know it’s a shit thing she did, but make it quick, will you? She was our friend once._

 

“Well, at least they understand,” Relm said as she let the note drop to the floor. “Suppose she’s holed herself up in there.” Whipping out her staff, she aimed the blunt end of it before slamming it a few times against the door. “Ohhhh Myrellaaaaa.” She raised her voice so it could be heard through the door. “Knock knock. We need to have ourselves a chat.”

A part of her doubted Myrella would let her in, and she began wondering how to undo the seals on the doors. But before she could formulate a plan, they faded. _Not running from her fate, this one._

As she reached out to open the door, Fenris grabbed her arm. “Wait.” He motioned for her to listen. “Do you hear it? It’s faint, but she’s not alone in there.”

Relm pressed her ear to the door, but hardly heard anything. Just as she was about to give up, a low growl emanated from somewhere beyond the door. She stepped back. “What was that?”

“Demons,” Merrill said, bringing out her staff. “She’s ready for us.”

“Lovely. This is the week of awful mages and demons.” Relm motioned to the others to get ready before she carefully pushed open one of the doors. It swung open with an ominous creak.

It opened to a large, long room. Once upon a time, it was a meeting hall of some sort. But now it stood almost empty, save for the woman, a few shades and a portal to the Fade at the far end of the room. Myrella had her back to them, staff in hand as she regarded the portal in front of her. The demons hissed, but they remained still otherwise.

Hawke and the others stepped inside, weapons slowly being drawn. The demons snarled, poised to strike as the group walked closer. Finally, Myrella turned to face them. A grim determination furrowed her brow. Burn marks scarred her neck, left uncovered and untreated.

“What happened?” Anders asked, horrified. “Who did that to you?”

Her eyes darted to Hawke.

“I did it when she told me what she had done.” Relm met her gaze with a cold look of her own. “Wiped that smug look off your face, didn’t it?”

“Wasn’t feeling smug. I did what I had to.”

“For all the good that it’s done you now.” Hawke stopped walking when one of the shades lunged at her. She swung her staff, the blade cutting through the shade. It fell to the floor into a heap, dissolving a few seconds later. “All that talk about helping soul mates, but the moment you’re within reach of a little power and money, you stab me in the back and turn on what you’ve been fighting for.”

“Spare me the guilt trip. You said you wouldn’t help anymore, just because you didn’t like my methods.”

“And your answer was to get me _killed_ for it?” Relm snapped back. “He was going to murder me in front of Fenris, then drag him back into slavery!”

Myrella didn’t even flinch. There wasn’t the slightest bit of guilt or remorse in her as she said, “I can’t protect and save everyone, Hawke. It’s impossible. We all have soul mates. Am I to not lift a hand against the templars that come after us, just because they have mates? Am I not to defend myself and those who fight with me, just because those who would harm us have mates? There will be no winning this conflict if we play nice! Sacrifices are sometimes needed.”

“So,” Fenris stepped next to Hawke. “that justifies what you tried to do to us? It’s one thing to not be able to save everyone. But to betray someone who once helped you? And for what? Did you really think Danarius would have helped you?” He made a disgusted sound. “You’re a fool. He strung you along. Once he had what he wanted, he would have either done away with you or left you with nothing.”

“Is this what you came here to do? Lecture me?”

It was becoming clear Myrella wasn’t interested in a change of heart. Relm hoped Anders wouldn’t take this hard, but at least she tried. “I said I would at least try talking to you. For Anders’s sake.”

Anders had, up until now, hung back. Whether because he had been called out or because he also got the same feeling as Relm had, that this conversation was going nowhere. “Myrella. I know we’re in dire straits, and I understand your thinking, to an extent. But turning on Hawke?”

“And what would you have done, Anders, were you in my shoes?” Myrella narrowed her eyes at him.

He lifted his chin. “Not anger the Champion of Kirkwall, for starters.”

“You’re biased because she’s your friend. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. If that damns me, then so be it.” Myrella took a step back, magic crackling along her hands before she swung out her arm, the magic furling outwards towards the Fade portal. It sparked and lit up. Within moments, telltale screeches and roars poured out from the portal. “I knew you’d come, Hawke, and even though I know what I did was right, I don’t hold it against you. I’d do the same. But I’m not going to make it easy for you. There’s still too much I need to do!”

It irked Relm that guilt hovered beneath her anger. She didn’t _want_ to feel guilty, but it was there, and it made her all the angrier. “So this is what it’s come to. Fine. You want to make the same mistake Danarius did?” Hawke brought forth her magic, leaving aside any notion of mercy she might have had. “Then let’s dance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: battle royale in Darktown! See you all then, and Happy Halloween!


	40. Vengeance and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrella pissed off the wrong people... and the wrong spirit.

Anders implored Myrella to reconsider, but she wasn’t listening. Rages and Despairs poured out of the portal, screeching and squalling as they lunged at Hawke and her friends. The group broke apart, weapons yanked out to deal with the incoming horde.

This was hardly their first toss with demons, but the battle with Danarius had left them with still healing injuries. They weren’t in tip top shape, and it worried Relm considerably as she felt her own wounds pull and sting as she swung spells. If she had just waited… but then, this battle might have been a lot worse if she had. Who knew what that extra time would have allowed Myrella to do?

Every so often, as she cut and zapped demons left and right, she caught glimpses of Myrella hanging back and letting the denizens of the Fade she’d summoned do her dirty work. _That’s not going to stand._ Hawke pulled on her magic, focusing it into her fist. She then slammed it down, funneling the telekinetic energy and slamming the demons in front of her flat against the ground. With Maker’s Fist leaving them unable to move, Relm leapt over them before charging at Myrella.

To her annoyance, Myrella swept out of the way with a Fade Step. The blonde appeared further down the room, towards the Fade portal. “I expected you to be faster,” she commented, arms crossed.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Relm snarked back. “Killing magisters and their retinue is tiring.”

“At least he had the decency to wear you down for me.”

“He was never going to help you, and his help won’t be enough now.” Relm hurled the quickest Stone Fist she could manage at Myrella. The other mage barely dodged it, but wasn’t prepared for the stream of lightning Relm followed her previous spell up with. Her whole body jerked before crashing to the floor.

If Relm had been in better shape, she could have Fade Stepped over there and finished Myrella off. But her mana levels were already low, so she needed to take a moment and catch her breath. Unfortunately it allowed Myrella the chance to get to her feet and summon more demons through the portal.

Arrows and spells flew from behind Hawke, meeting the demons just as they were entering the waking world. Fenris let out his customary shout before he leapt into the fray, Aveline charging right behind him. Relm sucked in a deep breath before plunging in with them. Merrill and Isabela finished off the stragglers from the first wave as everyone else focused fire on round two.

As much as Hawke wanted to turn her attention to Myrella, there were simply too many demons. Every time she tried to pull back, one would leap at her or slither up next to her, blocking her path. Her arms ached as she swung her staff and sliced through them, wanting to preserve her mana. The only time she relented was in casting the occasional healing spell to help lighten Anders’s load.

Once the herd thinned out, she glanced at Fenris. Their eyes met, and with a shared nod, they turned towards Myrella. They barely took two steps before she flung spells at them, forcing them to duck and weave, slowing their progress. Luckily, Varric noticed their struggle and let loose a flurry of bolts at Myrella, forcing her to take cover and throw up a Barrier to shield herself. “Now’s your chance you two!”

They closed the distance rapidly. Relm flung a wave of flames at Myrella, curving them at an angle and driving her away from the portal. Fenris circled around and slashed at her, trying to drive her towards the flames. Myrella began to use Fade Step, but just as she did, Fenris brought his sword up to swing it into her. While she managed to move, the blade clipped her shoulder, causing her to lose control of her spell and go careening into a wall. She grunted as she collapsed onto the ground. “Fire and blood,” she hissed as she grabbed her bleeding joint.

The demons dealt with, everyone turned their attention – and weapons – to her. Myrella lifted her eyes, jaw clenched tightly as she lifted her good arm. “Not so fast.” She drew on the blood seeping from her shoulder wound and used it to cast another summoning spell. The portal vibrated, pulsating as something seemingly large began pounding against it.

“Everyone get back!” Merrill warned. “She’s bringing something big through there!”

They all took Merrill’s warning seriously – she did know a thing or two about demons – and distanced themselves from the portal. As Merrill predicted, the portal widened to make room for the Pride demon emerging from it. The demon let out an ear splitting roar as electricity danced along its arms. The lightning surged outwards, crackling against the ground and zapping anything in its vicinity. Hawke and company barely managed to avoid the bolts, but the Pride demon quickly charged at them, sending them scrambling to get out of the way.

A Pride demon was a nightmare to deal with when one was in perfect health and at full mana. Beaten up and mana levels low, the demon posed a serious threat. Relm wasn’t the only one struggling to fling spells, or land any attack on the thing. Pride swung its huge fist at whomever was unlucky enough to be in striking range. Anders and Sebastian both took solid blows, sending them flying. The others quickly rallied to distract it so Hawke and Fenris could pull the men to their feet before the demon could finish them off. But even with eight people against it, the demon showed few signs of slowing down. Unlike Hawke and company, with their labored breathing and their sluggish movements.

“It’s too bad you dragged your friends into this,” Myrella said as Pride sent out a burst of lightning that nailed more than a few of the companions. “You and your need for revenge.”

In retaliation, Relm hurled a Stone Fist at Myrella. It missed and hit the wall.

Unfazed, Myrella continued, “Not a fitting end for a Champion. Almost a shame, dying in the bowels of Darktown with her mate and her friends. But it’s still a kinder end than some. At least it’ll be alongside your mate, though you were too scared to ever tell him the truth.”

Hawke saw red. She wanted nothing more than to shut Myrella up, to watch her throat burn up to a crisp, like it should have the other day. Blinded by her anger, she failed to notice the demon swinging its arm out to grab her. It wasn’t until she heard Fenris shout and tackle her out of the way that she realized what happened. The air was knocked out of her lungs as they collided with the ground.

“Pride!” Myrella shouted. “Kill them now! You may not be an agent of mercy, but I want to ensure they at least die together. No matter what, I won’t inflict upon them what happened to me.”

As Hawke lifted her head, she briefly saw the Fade portal flash, as if something passed through it. But she had no time to wonder what it was as Pride filled her line of vision, lightning dancing along its body.

Aveline struggled to her feet to try and help them, but just as she stood, the demon rounded on her and kicked her square in the chest. Her heavy armor made an awful screeching noise as it scraped across the ground, Aveline powerless to stop herself from sliding.

Hawke pooled the remaining dregs of her mana to throw up a Barrier spell. Even as she did, Fenris, exhausted and injured, covered her with his body to shield her. There was no time to shove him off; the demon turned its attention back to them immediately, and all of Hawke’s energy went to maintaining that Barrier. She shut her eyes as the demon swung down-

Nothing. The blow never came.

Seconds later, Hawke dared to open her eyes.

An old friend stood between them and Pride. Hawke’s Barrier had shattered, but whatever powers the spirit had were enough to form a much more powerful shield, keeping the surging lightning bolts of Pride at bay. The electricity built up against the barrier the spirit had formed, and yet it held, even as the demon roared and swung down again. With a deafening _boom,_ it collided against the spirit’s shield. But it didn’t waver.

“Begone, Pride.” The spirit shoved the barrier at the demon, along with all the built up lightning magic that had been gathering against it. All that magic cut through the demon; it let out one last, pained roar before it died, dissolving back into the Fade from whence it came.

The room fell eerily silent, the tension hanging until the spirit turned towards Hawke and Fenris. “Little bird, little wolf. Are you two all right?”

Fenris got off of Hawke, though still winded. Hawke sat up, mouth agape at the spirit floating in front of her. “I – we’re fine. What are you-”

“Well.” Myrella, clearly displeased at the turn of events, twirled her staff once in her hand, contemplating her next move. “Look who it is.”

The spirit looked less than happy to see her, too. In the most venomous tone Relm had ever heard from it, it said, “You were supposed to help. But you took what I gave and you led the monster here.”

“You assumed I was going to help.”

“No, you were.” Relm could have sworn the spirit seemed taller, almost more imposing in that moment, something bright and fierce. “I felt it within you. You wanted to help. The little bird gave so much, and you had nothing to return. ‘If I can find her mate for her, that would be payment enough.’ You sought me out, the one that brought them together. But when I told you, you did nothing. You resented it, that she hid that truth from you. It festered, just like all the hate and heartbreak and sorrow that you’ve swallowed and let dwell within you. Then you found another use for what I gave.”

Myrella looked a little unnerved, but she tried to hide it under bravado. “A better use. A way to help us. It was an opportunity I had to take.”

“Was it? Or did all that hate rotting within you tell you to do it?” As the spirit moved a little closer, Myrella backed away. “Love turned to hate. Sorrow turned to anger. A desire to help warped into a thirst to harm. You sought a means to win, but in doing so, you turned away everyone and everything that mattered. And now-”

“ENOUGH!” Myrella bellowed. “I am not going to stand here and be lectured by some spirit of love who was stupid enough to blabber.”

_Love? That’s what it is?_ In all the years she’d known it, Relm had never thought to ask what it was. The revelation about the spirit’s nature warranted further discussion, but it wasn’t the time.

Relm lifted up her staff and slammed the blunt end into the ground. “You know, for a leader, you sure do like to shove personal responsibility off on others.” Hawke shakily got to her feet. “It’s all ‘I had to do it’ or ‘You shouldn’t have told me’ or ‘You didn’t like when I suggested this incredibly stupid thing’. Buck up, you bitch. _You_ did it, _you_ asked, and _you_ are the problem.”

“Stop!” Anders, barely on his feet himself, gestured broadly at all of them to stop. “Myrella. Lay down your weapon. There’s no reason to escalate this further. I get why you did what you did, but there are better ways. Turning on our friends isn’t-”

“If they’re not with us, then they’re against us! There is no middle ground.” Clearly not in a mood to keep arguing, Myrella hurled a cone of ice at the group.

The spirit lifted its hand and stopped the attack dead in its tracks. The ice hung in the air, suspended by nothing but whatever power Love had that kept it from going any further. Within seconds, it began to crack and break, before shattering completely. “I will not let you harm them any further.”

“Bloody spirit. You’re going to be a pain in the ass while you’re drawing your power from those two.” Her body jerked, her skin slowly curdling into an unsettling shade of putrid yellow. “Then I’ll just eliminate you first. I will not be felled by some weakling such as love. I will prevail!”

The spirit shouted, “No, don’t! Do not give into Rage!”

Myrella’s transformation left everyone stunned in horror as her body bent and twisted, distorting the woman into something unrecognizable. She shrieked, the sound almost painful, like the longest set of nails scraping across a chalkboard.

Anders screamed. “Don’t do this! Myrella, I’m begging you!”

“It’s too late!” Love said. “She’s given herself to Rage. It’s not like with you and Justice. She needs to be stopped!”

Flames licked around Myrella’s hands and feet, the floor beginning to warp under the heat. An enormous stream of fire shot forth from her arm as it lashed out. Hawke dove to the left, while Fenris and Love dodged to the right.

Arrows and bolts flew from the side; Varric and Sebastian managed to get into fighting stances and draw on what strength remained to give Myrella a hard time. She wasn’t having any of it; a wave of fire forced the archers to abandon their positions and dive for cover. Merrill, Isabela, and Aveline tried to rally to turn her attention away, but they, too, were met with a fierce stream of fire. They only avoided singeing thanks to Merrill’s barrier and Aveline’s shield.

Relm, worried about the others, nearly missed the trickle of blood that dripped out of Fenris. Either he’d somehow gotten injured while avoiding the fireball, or he’d exacerbated a pre-existing injury. Whatever happened, worry spiked through her. Before she could carefully make her way over there, the spirit hovered near him and cast a healing spell. Fenris jerked his head up, nostrils flared and teeth gritted. But the injury closed up, and the blood stopped. It left him snarling in contempt.

The distraction nearly cost them. Myrella took advantage of their attention lapse and charged at them. One of her arms, elongated and swollen from the transformation, swung at Fenris and Love, who were closest to her. The brunt of the swing was to fall on Fenris, but the spirit got in the way. Some of its shielding magic absorbed the blow, but it also took some of the hit, the momentum sending it crashing against the ground. Myrella roared in triumph before turning her attention towards Fenris.

It was the last mistake she ever made. Spurred on by anger from seeing Love fall, and terror at the thought of Fenris being consumed by the flames of Myrella’s wrath, Relm drew on the last of her mana and Fade-stepped forward. As she hurtled at Myrella, she swung her staff up hard and rammed it straight into her chest.

The sound that came out of Myrella was heartbreakingly human: a gasp, shocked and pained. What little pity Relm had, she crushed as she wrenched the blade in further, before forcefully tearing it out through her side. When Myrella fell to her knees, the flames extinguished, Hawke brought her staff up, blade pointed down and at Myrella.

“Hawke, don’t!” Anders shouted.

“…it’s not so bad,” Myrella murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. “Maybe now I can see him again.”

Perhaps it was a mercy, what she was doing. But Relm didn’t care in that moment. She just wanted the woman dead. But at least she could make it quick. With a quick swing, she brought the blade down into the back of her head. Myrella’s body slumped forward.

Relm plunked down hard on her ass, her staff clattering on the ground next to her. She heaved out a sigh before looking over at where Fenris was and where the spirit fell. “Are you-”

Fenris indicated he was fine, but he, too, was looking at the spirit. For a moment, it didn’t move. Hawke’s heart sank. “No…”

The spirit glowed briefly, rather like one of Anders’s healing spells. As the glow faded, the spirit was up. Love turned towards her and Fenris. “…I made you worry,” it said as it focused on Relm. “Fear not, little bird. It takes more than that to truly hurt me. Though, it’s been some time since I was in the midst of a battle.”

Hawke crawled over towards them, seeing her friends slowly get up and stand in her peripheral. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am fine, but you are not.” The spirit leaned towards Hawke. She could see healing magic forming.

But before she could reach out, Fenris’s arm lashed out and grabbed Hawke, pulling her back. He aimed a hard glare at the spirit. “You will not cast your magic on her.” Then that glare turned towards Hawke. “How do you know this demon? Why do you trust it?”

“You just spoke to it a few days ago.” Relm’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s the one that talked to you, the night before we fought Danarius.” Not that Fenris knew that, but Relm had known as soon as he mentioned it to her yesterday. She had decided to not push the topic at the moment. They’d been having such a nice day, why ruin it with talk of spirits? “And it’s not just any spirit. This is the one that found you and brought me to you. Well, in my dreams anyway.” She gestured to the spirit. “Fenris, meet our resident spirit. Who’s apparently a spirit of love.”

“Little wolf doesn’t trust me or my kind.” Love seem unfazed, even as Fenris’s eyes narrowed at it. “I’ve known this a long time. I simply want to help, as I am not sure the one Justice inhabits will be up to healing all of you himself.” It looked past the pair.

They turned to where it was looking. Anders knelt next to Myrella, hands bloody. He must have tried stopping her bleeding in a desperate attempt to save her. But he looked angry now, brow furrowed and teeth clenched as he gripped his staff tightly. “How could you let this happen?” he whispered.

Relm’s lips pursed tightly together. “I told you-”

Anders shook his head. “She threw her life away, and for what? What little progress we made will be undone with her death. Everyone looked to her for guidance and leadership. With her gone…”

Fenris scoffed, gingerly swinging his sword onto his back. “Are the rest of you just sheep, unable to think and act for yourselves? Another can rise and take her place. Clearly the rest of them weren’t so mindless; they left Myrella to her fate when they learned what she had done. And wisely so.”

“Myrella had contacts, and friends in the right places. It’s not as simple as someone charismatic enough to step up and take charge.” The healer surged to his feet. “Let’s get to my clinic. I can heal better there, after downing a half dozen lyrium potions. I just… I need to get out of here. I can’t think.”

Unsure as to go after him or not, Hawke just watched Anders walk away. Some small part of her felt guilty for what had transpired. It had to be done, sure, but she wished it didn’t end like it did. “…this doesn’t bode well.” A desperate Anders worried her. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Instead, she glanced at Myrella before looking back at Love. “She lost her mate, too?”

“Some time ago. The wound was old, but still deep. Like the one Justice inhabits, she used the pain to motivate her, swearing she would fight so no more would suffer what she did. But the love she had for him warped into a seething hatred for what was done to him, and that she was left behind, incomplete.” The spirit approached Myrella’s body. “Poor thing. Cut in half. Living but not whole. A desire to push on battling a wish for death. Her purpose perverted.” It looked in the direction Anders had walked off in. “…not unlike them.”

Ominous words, from a spirit of love, no less. “Do you think Anders will try something drastic?”

“I think that a man wanting to do good but feeling helpless, a spirit of Justice bordering on Vengeance, and desperation do not mix well.” The spirit seemed to sag a little. “Little bird, little wolf… all of you, be careful. There’s no telling what they’ll do next. The plight of soul mates will get worse. The plight of the mages will get worse. Vengeance will not be satisfied until something is done to change this course, and to do so will take something incomprehensible.”

Ordinarily, Relm knew the others would hesitate to even consider the advice of a spirit. But Anders’s actions and his slowly declining state over the years made it hard to argue otherwise. Not wanting to dwell on this right now – what good would it do? – Relm instead decided to shift the conversation. “On that cheery note…” She cleared her throat. “I do have one little question: what exactly are you doing here?”

“To help.”

_Gotta love spirits and how literal they are._ “Yes, so I gathered but… why? That’s a huge risk for you to come out of the Fade.”

“Because this is partly my fault.” The spirit indicated to Myrella. “Had it not been for me, she would never have had the information needed to bring the monster here.”

Thinking back, Myrella had mentioned that she’d learned about her connection to Fenris from the spirit. “Right. You told her about Fenris and me.”

“I wanted to help.” The spirit looked damn near guilty, or as much as a spirit could. “Your soul cried out. Screaming, shrieking, begging. Pain, pain, pain. But you would have let it be. You would swallow your hurt, if that’s what it took. All the while your soul tore at the seams. So when she came, looking for answers, I sought her out. She wanted to help, and I wanted to help. If I told her what was happening, perhaps she could intervene.” The spirit looked at Myrella’s twisted face. “...but she didn’t. Shocked, ‘Why did she hide this from me?’ Irked and irate, she turned away and did nothing. Until she found another purpose for what I gave her.”

_“She was supposed to help.”_ It was an explanation and an accusation, all at once. Relm supposed she could be upset for the spirit’s lack of caution, and for not warning her, but honestly, she didn’t have it in her. She’d been worried about what Varric and the others thought of her silent misery, but she never considered the spirit. Of course it cared, of course it worried. “This one’s on me. I’m sorry if I worried you. I know you were just trying to help.”

“How do we know this isn’t some ploy?” Fenris groused, arms crossed as he regarded the spirit with mistrust. “This demon could have any number of reasons for helping us.”

While they were talking, Merrill had wandered over, hobbling a bit but otherwise okay. The elf was peering at the spirit, who seem unfazed at the extra attention. At Fenris’s accusation, she piped up, “Well, it did get something out of you two, I imagine. Spirits embody and are empowered by an emotion or ideal. A spirit of love would want to bring a couple together. You two are in love, and it would be able to feel that and draw strength from it.” She paused, considering. “Probably why it was able to throw up such a powerful barrier when that demon went to strike. It was very impressive.”

“It _fed_ off of us?”

“I draw in love as you draw in air, little wolf. The mirror gazer is correct. It does not harm you. And it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve seen Desire stoke the flame of want in its targets, and seen Rage fuel its victim’s wrath. In that regard, I am the same as them. But they seek to harm, whereas I do not.”

Relm knew the futility of getting into this argument with Fenris, so she put an end to it with, “Thank you for what you’ve done. But that portal’s still open, and you should get back. This is no place for you.”

Merrill nodded in agreement. “Right you are, Hawke. A spirit of love is a rare thing to come by. It’d be unfortunate if something happened to it here. I can help shut the portal behind it.”

“I barred it after coming in, but it will not last much longer. I should return.” It brightened as it turned to Fenris. “Good-bye little wolf.”

Fenris’s farewell was a glare.

Relm sighed, but ushered the spirit back towards the portal. When they reached it, she and Merrill stood on either side, ready to close it. Their mana levels were low, and they’d be feeling the pain later, but it had to be done. “Ready when you are.”

Love pushed against the barrier; it rippled across its surface before it gave way, letting it pass. But before it went through, it said, “I know you fear the storm clouds gathering in the distance, when you’ve finally seen your own clouds part. But be careful, little bird. Heed my words, if nothing else. The flames of vengeance, once stoked, are hard to put out. Sometimes, even love is not enough.”

“Some nice, uplifting words to part on.”

“Not quite. There is more to be said, but that can come later. We can have our good-byes, then. Until you sleep.” And with that, Love crossed back into the Fade. Merrill and Hawke immediately closed the portal down behind it, letting the Veil close the gap between the Fade and waking world.

“Let’s never do that again,” Isabela proclaimed. “I’m sick of dealing with demons. If we’re going to kill something, let’s kill something mundane. Like bandits, or that ginger in the Hanged Man who keeps hitting on me and spilling beer all over the counter.”

“Agreed,” Varric muttered. “Hawke, this is the last person on your shit list we have to kill, right? Excluding Meredith, because let’s just… not go there right now.”

_Fine by me,_ she thought as she turned and limped her way back.

Fenris reached out towards her as she neared. They leaned on each other as they headed towards the door. “Let’s get patched up,” Hawke said, “and then go home. I’ve seen enough bloodshed for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moral of the story: Don't double cross spirits of love, folks. Or Hawke, but that's a given.
> 
> See you next time!


	41. Hand in Hand, Towards Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uneasy with how Anders reacted to Myrella's death, Relm tries not to dwell on it as Fenris opens up about his conversation with Varania. Then, Hawke must bid a friend good-bye.

Anders’s reception when they all finally arrived at the clinic was distant, to put it mildly. He healed the more serious injuries, but spoke very little to any of them. Awkward glances were exchanged amongst Hawke’s friends. Relm struggled between wanting to console him and wanting to tell him Myrella had it coming. The sharp glances at her – just shy of glares – made biting her tongue all the harder.

 _He’s hurting,_ she told herself as he bid her a terse good-bye when everything was finished. _Now’s not the time to push._

So she let it be. As much as part of her screamed on the inside to say something, anything, she kept quiet. Hope told her that Anders would come around after he processed the grief. Fear warned her that this might only be the beginning. Her friendship with Anders made it hard to decide which to listen to.

Both she and Fenris all but collapsed onto her bed when they arrived back at her home, sleeping off some of the exhaustion. Without even really saying it, they decided to take it easy that day and let their injuries heal. For once, Hawke had few letters and even fewer cries for help. One or two, but nothing urgent. For the first time in a while, she could truly relax.

And yet she couldn’t shake the uneasiness. Even as the next day dawned and she attempted to distract herself – whether with books or Fenris – nothing seemed to work for long.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You should not let him bother you so,” Fenris observed later that following day.

Glancing up from her writing desk, Relm scoffed lightly. “Trying not to. I just keep thinking of what the spirit said. Glower all you want,” she added when he scowled, “but you have to admit it has a point. We’ve all been worried about Anders, even if no one wants to admit it.”

“Then we need to keep an eye on him,” Fenris said.

 _Easier said than done._ Isabela wouldn’t be keen on spying on him, Merrill would give it away, Sebastian would likely just not be able to (he kind of stuck out), and they were all busy half the time with something or other. If Hawke wasn’t dragging them off on some errand, they all had their own projects and interests. “…well-“

“No, I take it back.” Fenris came to the same conclusion as her. “Blasted mage. Whatever happens, don’t let him drag you into it. While yes, I’m more… sympathetic, that doesn’t mean getting yourself tangled up in it is wise.”

“So I’m to do nothing?”

“Nothing with him and whatever fool idea he comes up with.” Fenris sighed, walking over to her face. Gently, he held her face in his hands. “Please, Hawke. I’m well accustomed to you putting yourself in danger, but bandits and demons are at least predictable. There’s no telling what he’ll do. And if word should reach the templars…”

How ironic, she realized. Now that she was with her mate, she had fewer reasons to actually help the cause. Not for a lack of caring, but because of the stakes. What happened to her affected him. If she were made Tranquil, or killed…

“I’ll try and find another way.” Hawke squeezed one of his hands. Maybe she could go back to funneling money to the group. Surely Fenris wouldn’t mind that? “Maybe Aveline might be able to help, too, now that she knows.”

Fenris nodded, but it was clear by his expression he felt uncomfortable with the topic. Too much potential heartbreak and tragedy. Before Relm thought of something else to say, he asked, “What were you doing? You seemed to be looking for something.”

“Oh, just a not-letter I wrote that I can’t find.” Her fake letter to Carver had gone missing. It’d been used as a means to get roiling emotions out of her, but with everything settled she meant to toss it. The dratted parchment was nowhere to be found. “A means to vent,” she clarified when Fenris furrowed his brow in confusion. “Ah well. Must have gotten tossed at one point.”

Relm stood up, trying not to wince as her muscles protested the motion. “Eugh. I think I might soak in the tub for a little bit. Muscles are still stiff.” She canted her head to the side, a slow smile forming. “Care to join me?”

“An irresistible offer.”

“The bath or me naked?” she asked coyly as she led him upstairs.

Fenris cocked a brow at her. “If I must answer that, you don’t know me very well.”

“Of course.” Relm sighed a bit sadly, clearly being overly dramatic. “It’s very hard to say no to a bath, I understand…”

As they reached the top of the stairs, Fenris grabbed hold of her and guided her towards the wall. As her back pressed against it, he caged her with his body. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip; Relm had no idea how her knees didn’t buckle right then and there.

“Then allow me to show you my preference,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

Bathing after sex must be the closest thing to pure bliss, Relm decided. Her body felt like the consistency of pudding, molded against Fenris’s as they laid in the tub together. Though worry about Anders and the future still lurked in the background of her mind, for the first time since she left the clinic she was able to keep the nagging voice at bay.

Fenris’s breathing had evened out; Relm half-wondered if he was asleep. She would turn and look to see, but didn’t want to disturb him.

 _Now what?_ she thought as she laid her head against his chest. At some point, she needed to talk to Anders, but if she could get through to him, then she had little in the way of things to worry about outside of the general state of Kirkwall and all the anti-soul mate and anti-mage rhetoric floating about. Which, while not a minor matter, seemed far less overwhelming than before. _I thought it would be worse, given how much higher the stakes are for me._ She frowned in thought. Maybe it was simply because she was in a better state of mind. Her secret no longer burdened her, Fenris was with her, and her friends were on board with it. Things were… actually somewhat okay in her life. What an odd feeling.

Her thoughts abruptly ended when she felt one of Fenris’s fingers trail up her arm. Hawke turned to face him, finding him looking at her with half-hooded eyes. “I thought you fell asleep.”

“Not quite. Just lost in thought.”

“Oh?”

Her question was met with hesitation. His hand stilled on her forearm. Hawke fought not to frown. _Did I somehow overstep here?_

Fenris swallowed, before quietly answering, “About my conversation with Varania.”

“Oh.” Now she realized she treaded on shaky ground. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Listen, if you are willing.”

“Of course.”

It pained her how much of a struggle it seemed for him. She knew it wasn’t because of her, but because of what must have been discussed. This was new territory for him; all she could do was smile and wait for him to find the words.

“She… was quite surprised to see me.” Fenris smiled ruefully. “I’ll admit, I thought of walking away a dozen times. A part of me wanted nothing to do with her. I still seethe over what she did.”

Relm nodded as rested her head against his chest again. “But you stayed.”

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. For affection or for comfort, or maybe both. “I wanted answers. She stood by her reasoning, though she also apologized for how things unfolded. Not remorseful, though she expressed regret that you got dragged into it.”

“I sort of hurled myself at it.”

“Perhaps, but it was never her intention, all the same. And she said she stopped Danarius because she couldn’t abide by letting him kill you to hurt me.” He shook his head. “I believe that in her own, twisted view she thought she was doing me a favor by getting me taken back to Tevinter in chains. With how difficult a free life has been for her, she honestly thought it’d be preferable.”

Relm almost pitied her. _Almost._ “If she finds it that hard, then why not just sell _herself_ back into slavery? Why drag you back and get to ride on the coattails of being an apprentice?”

“Surprisingly, it’s not quite that simple in the Imperium, but that’s an entirely different discussion.” Fenris sighed. “By being an apprentice, she would be taken care of again. Provided for and have someone to follow around and take orders from. If Danarius intended to make good on that promise… I doubt it, but we’ll never know.”

“…I’m torn here. I’m angry at her, but I’m also sort of grateful? Like I said before, she saved our lives, and it wasn’t her who led him to you.”

“I’m conflicted as well, and I don’t know if I’ll ever quite come to terms with it.” Idly, he began tracing lines on Relm’s waist. “At the very least, she was willing to answer the questions I had.”

“As she well should.” Relm paused, studying his face. “Did you find out anything?”

He nodded, but remained quiet for a moment. Gathering his thoughts or steeling himself, Relm couldn’t tell. When he looked at her, she saw a mix of pain and determination in the crease of his brows. “Varania honestly wasn’t sure what happened to our father. Apparently Mother wouldn’t speak much of him. The most she ever got out of her was that our father was gone and beyond our reach.” He snorted softly. “An effort that took a few bottles of wine, I was told.”

Relm’s brow raised. “That’s… very much not saying he’s dead.”

“Something all three of us are agreed on. Unfortunately, she doesn’t even know his name. She has little memory of him, so his absence began when we were very young.” He made a frustrated sound. “At least she has something, even if it is just a vague memory or two. Apparently I… take after him, from what Mother always said.”

“Oh, Fenris.” Relm reached up, cupping his cheek. Her heart still ached with the loss of her father, but at least she remembered him. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to not be able to, and how maddening it must be. “We could try…”

Fenris shook his head. “I do not intend to return there, least of all to hunt a ghost. Varania mentioned perhaps trying to take up the search in earnest when she returned. I do not know if I will speak to her again, but she promised to write to me if she did find something tangible. But I am not going to get my hopes up. As far as I know, he’s dead.”

A harsh stance, but one she understood. “Did she tell you where you’re from? Is it Seheron?”

“We were born there, yes.” Varania had more details on that front. She told him the name of the town, who their master was, and even what his birthday was. “The 8th of Haring.”

Months away, but the thought of throwing him a proper birthday party on his actual birthday made Hawke practically giddy. She kept it well hidden, not wanting him to catch on. “I thought it was in the winter sometime.”

“Yes. She also said that our parents weren’t from Seheron. Our father’s origins are unknown, though Mother mentioned he came from elsewhere. And as for our mother, she was apparently Dalish.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Do not tell Merrill.” He shot her a look. “She was taken very young by slavers. Her clan wandered too near the Imperium borders, and the slavers caught them unawares. At some point, she wound up in Seheron where she met my father.”

 _Bastards._ No wonder the Dalish didn’t go into the Imperium. Getting just a little too close meant being attacked. “So your parents had the two of you, your father disappears, and you wind up somehow getting sold to another family on the mainland.”

He nodded. “Mother and Varania stayed in the city after they were freed. They weren’t allowed to contact me, though even if they could, I wouldn’t have remembered. She didn’t say if they tried at all, and I don’t know if it would make me feel any better if they did.”

“It’d have been a lose-lose situation.”

“Yes, and Danarius made sure of it.” His lip curled into a snarl. “He wanted me to be a cooperative pet, and a family would have taken away from that. It would have made me too sentimental or ignite a desire leave, things he wouldn’t have stood for.”

Anything that would have made Fenris happy, outside of Danarius himself. Relm remembered it too well. Any scrap of reward or pleasure came from Danarius and Danarius alone. Her hand clenched into a fist.

With anger rising in them both, Fenris wisely moved on. “Mother lived for about another four years before she succumbed to the wasting disease. Varania has been on her own since. Went to Qarinus for a time, then back to Minrathous to find other employment, where presumably Danarius found her.”

“And here we are.” Relm wondered if Danarius hadn’t always kept tabs on Varania, especially after Fenris escaped, but again, they now would never know. “So she’s gone back now I take it?”

“Back to Minrathous. What she’ll do, I don’t know. I didn’t ask. If I never hear from her again… it’d be no loss to me.”

“And if you do?”

“I… do not know. If she were to write, I doubt it would be for some time. I made it clear I still think little of her for what she did. She accepted it.” Gently, he brushed the hair away from her eyes. “In return, she asked a few questions of me. Most were of my time with Danarius – I didn’t say much – and also of my escape and my life here. Then she asked about you.”

“Me?”

“You made an impression on her, it seems. I didn’t tell her much in the way of anything very personal, but she wanted to make more of your character, or so it seemed. She also had the gall to tell me I was a fool if I let you go.” Despite his words, his lips lifted into a smirk. “At least we agreed on that. I assured her I wasn’t, and she told me that I was fortunate.” Suddenly he frowned a little, eyes distant. “Did you tell her anything of what I incurred during my time with Danarius?”

Words spoken in anger, Relm remembered. At the time it was to shut Varania up and make her see how easy she had had it in comparison. “Not in detail, but I told her the gist of it.” Looking back, Relm feared she had way overstepped a line in the sand of what she could and could not say. “I’m so sorry. She’d been going on about how rough her life had been and justifying why she was helping Danarius. Given what you’d gone through to give her that life, I-”

“It’s all right.” While his expression seemed less convinced, Relm knew Fenris wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it, or want to mean it at least. “I only ask because she seemed to have an idea of it.”

“What did she say?”

His tone grew somber as he said, “That perhaps everything I went through, what I endured and suffered, was the price I had to pay to find you. A trade – a sum of suffering for a sum of happiness.”

“That’s bullshit,” Relm snapped. That kind of thinking irked her, that people had to suffer in order to achieve happiness. “Joy and pain aren’t halves of a lump sum.”

“And I said as much. Yet, if I had to go through all of it again, knowing it would lead me to you, I would do it.” Deft fingers slid through her hair and cupped the back of her head. “You are worth it. While I do not think it was because of a cosmic price to pay, we cannot deny that the events of our lives helped lead us here. Any slight variation might have thrown us off course irrevocably. Despite everything we had to endure, I am glad for it.”

They both lost much to get there. Lessons hard learned, and mistakes made, and yet somehow they still arrived where they needed to be. Relm leaned up, capturing his lips with hers, arms wrapping around him and his around her as they locked together, keenly aware of just how damn lucky they were. Despite everything – Danarius, rotten luck, distance, opposing views, and all the baggage they both carried – things somehow worked out. They did it.

 

* * *

 

Though a number of people and factors went into bringing them together, there was one in particular that played a large role. And Relm was glad to see it that night as she found herself wandering a familiar part of the Fade. She hadn’t been to this spot in years, but she remembered it well.

She smiled as she approached the spirit waiting for her. “I had hoped the other day wasn’t going to be our last conversation.”

“It felt incomplete, and too much left unsaid.” Love beckoned to Relm, urging her to come closer. “But, this will be the last.”

As much as it made her heart ache, Relm knew it would be the case. With her and Fenris together, Love’s role in their lives was over. “What made you stay so long?” she asked as she strolled over. “I always assumed spirits washed their hands of a pair of mates once they met.”

“Most do,” Love agreed. “I did once as well, but time and time again, I would do so, and yet, they remained apart. Unconnected and lost. Never whole. Perhaps our roles need to extend beyond simply uniting souls.”

“Of course, that then means less time spent trying to bring more mates together.”

“A conundrum that will not be solved here.” The spirit stared at Relm thoughtfully. “But as to your question, I stayed because I made a promise.”

Relm canted her head to the side. “A promise?”

“Words mean little to us in the Fade. A means to communicate and nothing more. But to you mortals, they have the power to bind. From watching and interacting with mortals as long as I have, I’ve come to understand this. And so, an old friend asked me to promise him something. To help you, as I helped him once.”

 _Now, who would…?_ She barely formed the question before the answer dawned on her. There could only be one person who’d do that. “Father? You knew him?”

“I once answered the call of a mortal girl, sweet and spoiled. The sea flower. Long did it take me to find the one her song was meant for. Finally, it led me to him, the caged bird. A mage kept within a tower. Knowing what I knew of mortals and their world, I feared they would not meet. All the same, I pulled them together as much as I could.”

“Uncle Gamlen once told me they met at a party the nobility threw, back when mages were allowed out of the Gallows to provide entertainment. He said my mother couldn’t take her eyes off of my father.”

“Her soul knew, even if her mind and heart didn’t. Just like the little wolf. Despite the danger, the caged bird always found his way to her. My task done, I could have left. But this time, I wanted to stay. Unlike most mortals, he spoke to me. Wanted to know me. I found it strange, and yet drawn to it. And, the love that sparked in them both… I could hardly resist.”

Relm chuckled. “A moth to the flame. There’s a sense of elation when a spirit fulfills its purpose. Is it true?”

“Yes. There’s a sense of wholeness. We are complete, and yet, we want more. Valor seeks those of noble spirit and deed, Compassion for a chance to instill kindness, and I am always drawn to those in love.”

“But how did you wind up promising him something?”

Love floated over to her. “Perhaps it’d be easier to show you.” It reached up, and touched her forehead. “See for yourself.”

 

* * *

 

_A memory. Her father stood where she did, looking slightly bemused, though also pleased. “Love?” he called out, looking around. “I remember this little corner. It has to be it.”_

_Love appeared, like it’d always been there and she just hadn’t looked closely enough before. “Hello.” The spirit regarded Malcolm._

_“It_ is _you.” Malcolm walked over. “Here I thought we’d parted ways for good. Decided to pay your caged bird a visit?”_

_“You are not so caged anymore.”_

_“I always will be, in a way. But most of the bars have been broken, it’s true.” He frowned a little. “And you’re avoiding my question.”_

_The spirit did seem a little uneasy. Worried, perhaps. “An unexpected visit. I came here seeking something else, and I found you.”_

_“Something else? Are you looking for another would-be dreamer?”_

_“I am.”_

_“Someone nearby, then.”_

_“Very nearby.” Love hesitated for but a moment before continuing, “Far from here, I heard a cry. A small howl that reverberated and called to me. I answered. A small mortal boy reached out to me. I came to know his soul, and with that, I began to look for his mate. This search… did not take as long as most do. By chance I came here, and I found his match.”_

_Malcolm, before relaxed and smiling, immediately tensed, and his grin fell. He inhaled deeply, eyes shut briefly. Relm remembered that it was his way of composing himself. “…Relm. My little girl. She’s the one you’re looking for.”_

_“Last I knew of her, she was but a shadow in the sea flower. Barely more than an idea, a font of hopes and fears and the promises and uncertainty of a future. Now she walks and talks, and her soul unknowingly waits.”_

_“She’s so young.” Malcolm rubbed a hand over his face. “I… I am both glad and heartbroken. After what Leandra and I went through, in some ways I wouldn’t wish that on her. It’s a heavy burden. And she just came into magic not long ago…”_

_“She has you. For whatever is to come, you can guide her.” When Malcolm remained unmoving, Love drew closer to him. “Caged bird…”_

_“I know, I know. You must do what you must. I won’t stop you.” After a moment, Malcolm lifted his head. “After what you’ve done for me, this… might be asking a lot, but this isn’t about me. I will do everything I can to help her, but should a day come that I cannot be there for her anymore, will you help her, in my stead?”_

_The spirit stared at Malcolm thoughtfully. Its eyes scanned over him. “You mean for more than just the dreams.”_

_He nodded. “You stayed, even after Leandra and I met. When we couldn’t meet in person, you helped me reach out to her in the Fade. You were a steadfast ally as I remained surrounded by enemies. And when I had to go with the Wardens, you were with me. That prison… I doubt I would have gotten through it without you. So please. All the effort you expended to aid me, do the same for my daughter, if you can. I beg you.”_

_“This is… a promise, as you mortals call it, is it not?”_

_“Something like that.”_

_“Then I promise. The little bird will have my help, for as long and as much as I can give. To bring her and hers together, is now my purpose. May they know the love you and your sea flower share.”_

 

* * *

 

The memory faded, and Relm found herself back in the present. “My father… always looking out for me, even in the future.” Malcolm had always been prepared. He found a way to make sure Relm had someone in her corner, even if he no longer could be.

“When I last saw the caged bird, he and his were fleeing. They faced uncertainty, but they were together at last. For good. We parted ways, him to his future and me to a new purpose. That I would find my way back to him… I did not expect it.” The spirit seemed to be smiling. It exuded happiness. “And now my purpose has been fulfilled, once again. It is time to find another. You and the little wolf do not need me anymore. I had hoped that I would not need to fulfill my promise to your father, but I did.”

This was harder than Relm expected. But, she had known Love for twenty years now. Even if they hadn’t spoken much for many of those years, it was still always a presence in her dreams, just hovering out of sight, but always there. Her heart ached, knowing this would be good-bye. “Thank you. For everything. You helped when I needed it most, and I know you spoke with Fenris after Danarius captured me. A huge risk on your part, given his view on spirits.”

“I knew the words that needed to be said, it was a risk that had to be taken.” It paused, and then… was that a smirk? “But I made sure to not show myself, all the same.”

Maybe it was picking up some habits from Relm. She couldn’t help but laugh, even if a bittersweet tone underscored it. “Good-bye, Love. Thank you again. There’s another pair out there, waiting for you. They’ll be lucky to have you bring them together.”

Love nodded to her, flashing brightly. “Good-bye, little bird. Be careful. Danger still lies ahead of you, but now you don’t have to face the trials of the world alone. Keep him by your side. And may you two always have love in your souls.”

Relm fought back tears as she felt her soul slowly pull away, back to the waking world. She blinked away some tears; when she opened her eyes, Love was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that wraps up that arc of the fic. Now we're in for the final stretch, and the last half of Act 3. See you next time, and thanks for reading!


	42. Gathering Storm Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though things have gotten better personally for Relm, the same can't be said for the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update, guys! Holidays happened and all. Hope everyone had a good Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Solstice and a great new year! Without further ado, here's the new chapter.

Another day, another crowd gathered in Hightown for a plea from Orsino. The weeks following Myrella’s death saw an upswing in templar raids and new Tranquil in the Gallows. With the increase also came more vehement protests from the First Enchanter, beseeching Kirkwall to see Meredith and the templars’ actions for what they were: madness, and a means to oppress. Meredith, of course, always showed up and refuted all his points. The argument would get broken up, and then nothing resolved itself.

During the latest debate, Hawke hid in the backdrop, watching in frustration as the two debated in circles. She’d stepped in during past public arguments, but her presence either helped little or worsened things. Meredith accused her of sympathizing with blood mages, and Orsino begged her to do more. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

Like clockwork, Elthina showed up to break up the crowd, urging for peace. Relm rolled her eyes. Once upon a time, she hoped the Grand Cleric would help. But now? It was clear Elthina had no intention of reining in Meredith.

But it wasn’t just her. As the crowd parted, Hawke heard murmurs exchanged amongst the bystanders.

“How many more raids are there going to be?”

“They raided the Henessens’ last night. I’ve known them for years, they’d never be heretics!”

“Two more got killed last week. When will it be enough?”

“That many people can’t be heretics! What if she _is_ going crazy?”

“Maybe the First Enchanter has the right of it.”

For the first time in months, Relm felt a sliver hope. Now the people of Kirkwall were finally beginning to realize that Meredith wasn’t the paragon of law and virtue she claimed to be. If the Knight-Commander didn’t stop soon, there were going to be problems. Already a few noble families filed complaints against her. It did little, but at the very least, it made a statement: Kirkwall was reaching its limit.

Before Meredith or Orsino spotted her, Relm ducked away and down a side street. While the citizens grew uneasy, how long would it take before they put their foot down? How many lives would be lost? How many mages made Tranquil? And what would be the tipping point? Meredith targeting the wrong family?

Meredith going after Hawke?

Relm’s steps slowed when she felt a pull. Looking to the side, she saw Fenris approaching her. _Of course he’d been there,_ she thought as she stepped towards him.

“I am glad you weren’t dragged into that argument again,” he said. “Meredith’s grown suspicious of you.”

“Barely more than she already has been,” Relm said. The last thing she wanted was for Fenris to worry about Meredith going after her, even if it was a fear that she always kept. “I’d avoid those scenes entirely if I wasn’t afraid something would break out.”

“I fear more of what would happen if you were involved again and Meredith finally loses her temper.” Fenris leaned his forehead against hers. “Something must give. And I do not want you to bear the brunt of it.”

Hawke cupped his cheek. “Champion. If something goes down, I have to act. But I promise I’ll be careful.” She rubbed her thumb along his cheek, hoping to relax him. “Tell you what, let’s talk to Aveline. She’s as sick of this as we are. Maybe if we put our heads together we can come up with something.”

Fenris nodded, though he hardly seemed convinced. To be honest, Relm wasn’t so sure, either. But at this rate, they had to try.

 

* * *

 

Aveline hadn’t been at the Keep. Relm and Fenris almost gave up on finding her after an hour of searching when Donnic found them wandering about. He offered to take them to her, stating, “She was going to come find you shortly, in fact.” But he wouldn’t say why as he led them away from the Keep, only saying that they’d find out why when they got there.

They walked all the way down to Lowtown, their pace quick until they reached a side street. Two guards stood at the entrance to an alley. Donnic nodded to them, and they made way to let them pass. As they walked down the alley, he glanced over his shoulder before beckoning them closer. “What you see here, needs to be kept quiet for the time being. This is… delicate.”

“Oh Maker. What noble ponce got caught doing something stupid now?” Relm asked.

Donnic shook his head. “I wish that’s all it was.”

They came to the end of the alley, which led to a small circular area surrounded by abandoned store fronts. Aveline was kneeling on the ground next to two bodies; Relm and Fenris’s view was blocked by two other guardsmen. Donnic called out to her. The guard captain lifted her head, brow furrowed as the trio approached.

“They wanted to speak to you. You mentioned wanting to talk to the Champion about this earlier, so I thought it prudent to bring her here,” Donnic explained.

“Has word spread already?” Aveline asked, sounding alarmed.

“Spread about what?” Relm stepped around the guards; her heart nearly stopped at the sight she saw.

Two dead templars laid spread out, their chest plates ripped open and daggers dug deeply into their chests. A piece of parchment lay on the ground between them. Relm knelt down next to Aveline and gestured to it. “What does it say?”

“You can read it,” Aveline answered.

Relm took the parchment and unfurled it:

_The blood of innocents will be answered with the blood of the oppressors. More raids will mean more dead templars. This is your only warning._

“…shit.” She handed the note to Fenris, rubbing a hand over her face. Though the note wasn’t signed, she recognized the handwriting, and knew who would do this.

Aveline motioned to the other guards. “I need a moment with Hawke. Relieve Henley and Ava at the entrance. _No one else_ comes through.”

They nodded and saluted before they turned and left. Donnic stood off to the side, arms crossed.

With the four of them alone, Aveline heaved out a huge, tired sounding sigh. “This is an absolute mess. If the knight-commander hears of this, there’ll be a reckoning. Her grip on the city will tighten.”

“And the more it tightens, the more they’ll resist.” A cycle of violence that fed into itself, and one that would grow worse over time. “Orsino’s already kicking up shit. And now this.” This would only serve to fuel Meredith’s paranoia. The mages in the Gallows would not be her only victims. “We can’t let her see this.”

“I can’t hide dead templars from her.” Aveline leveled a critical look at Hawke. “Or are you suggesting I lie about the cause?”

“I don’t like the idea either, Aveline, but what can we do? Will it really help things to tell her the truth?”

Fenris handed the note to Aveline, expression grim as he stared down at the templars. “The raids will continue regardless. And they’ll keep killing more templars. She will eventually notice.”

Reasoning with Meredith was out of the question. Reasoning with the resistance… not impossible, albeit very difficult. “Let’s talk to Anders,” Relm suggested. “Maybe he knows who exactly is behind this. If we can talk to them and get them to back off, then Meredith doesn’t need to know.”

“Assuming they want to listen.” Aveline gestured to the bodies. “And I still have these to deal with in the meantime.”

“Captain,” Donnic spoke up. “if I might suggest something: we could say they were possibly ambushed by the Carta or one of the gangs. They’re in Lowtown, after all. Or at least just say it’s a working theory and we’re not sure what happened. Keep the note hidden. Without it, there’s little reason to suspect anything else.”

“That might work.” Aveline dug through the templars’ robes. “Nothing on them. They took their things. Pathetic, but it does make the idea of a robbery more plausible at least.” She drummed her fingers on her knees, thinking over something. “But we have to stop those people from killing more templars. I’m all for being upset over how they’ve handled things, but murdering them won’t solve anything.” She looked at Hawke. “I’m going with you when you speak with Anders. I want answers. Donnic,” she continued, glancing to him next. “arrange for their bodies to be transported. After I talk with Anders, I’ll figure out how to handle Meredith.”

Relm was so damn glad she wasn’t the one who had to do that, though she felt pity for Aveline, all the same. She got to her feet. “Right. Time to pay Anders a visit.”

 

* * *

 

_Maybe this is what Anders meant by things falling apart without Myrella around,_ Relm thought as they took the lift down to Darktown. _From what I remember, she was trying to avoid an all-out fight like they seem to be itching for now. Or perhaps they’re just out of ideas._

Aveline nudged her. “What did you want to speak with me about, if you hadn’t heard about what happened?”

“Well, funnily enough, we wanted to try and come up with some idea as to how to handle Meredith and her damn raids.”

“A prospect now made more complicated,” Fenris muttered. “I fear these people will not back down unless we have a plan in mind. If they’ve grown this desperate, asking them nicely to stop will not sway them.”

“That’s my worry, too,” Aveline said as the lift reached the bottom. “But we’re not out of options. Meredith won’t listen to me, but she will listen to the Grand Cleric.”

“Who’s not keen on stopping her,” Relm pointed out bitterly.

“Not currently, but that just means we need to give her a reason. A convincing one. Plan A is for me to just talk to her and try to ask her. Plan B is that you and I both go to her and tell her we want the Seekers involved.”

Relm raised her brow at that. “That’s a bloody assertive move, there.”

“She’s forcing our hand. If she won’t listen to the both of us, then we need to get the nobility involved. Lazy ponces can actually do some good here. If enough of them speak up, she won’t be able to ignore them. Especially after one of the higher ups got raided last week.”

The nobility had already grown uneasy with Meredith. That she attacked one of their own left them feeling sour about her, to put it lightly. Perhaps it was time to galvanize their discontent. “There’s a party being thrown in a few weeks. Enough of them will be there that I can talk with them about it. Maybe get a petition going. I mean, why just stop with asking for the Seekers? Maybe lay down an ultimatum: bring in the Seekers or Meredith has to step down immediately. Just the threat of it might be enough for something to be done.”

“I hope so,” Aveline said. “Something has to give, and I don’t want it to be the city.”

“And if things fall apart, it’ll be on Hawke to try and hold back the chaos,” Fenris warned.

It absolutely would be the case, and Relm dreaded thinking about it. To lighten things, she joked, “Well, if nothing else, Meredith and I will finally have a shot at each other. Maybe we’ll have a throwdown with good ol’ fashioned fisticuffs. Duke it out properly.” She snorted. “Or she’ll come after me with a brand while I flee like a chicken with my head cut off.”

“Do not make light of that. It’s possible, though I will kill her before she can do so,” Fenris growled.

…admittedly, not the best thing to joke about. Relm smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Though, the sight of you ripping out one of her organs would make it worth it.”

“I’d rather avoid the scene entirely.”

Before Relm could respond, Aveline cut in with, “As riveting as this conversation is,” In a tone that suggested she did not mean that at all, “save it. We’re almost at Anders’s place, and him even catching a whiff of that will set him off.”

They’d all been stepping on eggshells around Anders lately. Well, most of them. Fenris hardly cared, and Isabela frequently tried to get him to lighten up, as did Varric. But deep down, they all watched him carefully.

For Relm, this was the first time since shortly after Myrella died that she visited the clinic. She had tried once, but Anders hadn’t been there, and his infrequent contact with her since then made her hesitant to reach out. Did she push him, or give him space? She didn’t know.

But here she hoped to make some leeway, as they entered his clinic. Anders was in the back, carefully reading through some tome Relm didn’t recognize. He looked up when they drew closer. Immediately he sat up, jaw set and muscles tense.

“Hi Anders,” Relm greeted him, smiling in hopes he would relax. “Sorry for interrupting, but we just wanted to know if you had contact with the resistance group lately.”

“What of it?”

Aveline cut in, “They killed two templars in Lowtown. And yes, we know it’s them, because of this.” She held out the note from the crime scene.

Anders took it, folding it open and reading it over. He frowned. “You can’t prove-”

“Anders.” Relm sighed, wishing he wouldn’t be so defensive. “I know that handwriting. It’s the same as the note they left on Myrella’s door. I just want to know if you knew about this, and if so, what’s going on.”

He folded up the note and handed it back. “No, I didn’t know about this, but I can’t say I’m surprised. What else do you expect them to do? We’re out of options.”

“We’re not though.” Relm explained to Anders what she and Aveline had planned.

When she finished, Anders seemed less than impressed, though his stance relaxed in the meantime. “Even if the nobles could be bothered to care about the mages and other people, Elthina and Meredith aren’t necessarily going to be inclined to listen. They don’t answer to the nobility in this city.”

“But as acting viscount, Meredith does have to answer to them,” Aveline countered. “Though, that’s another good point… Hawke, perhaps a letter to the Divine might go a long way.”

“Think she’d listen?”

“Can’t hurt to try. Better than murdering templars and trying to cause a war, at any rate,” Aveline said, casting Anders a stern look. He just glared back at her, refusing to speak.

Relm cleared her throat. “Do you think the group would be willing to back off if I tell them about our plans? See if those work first before anything else happens?”

“It might be best if I do it,” Anders countered. “They’re more likely to listen to me. But we’re running out of time. More Tranquil show up in the Gallows every day. More citizens lose their lives.”

“I’m very aware of that, Anders.” Hawke tried to keep her tone even, but the desperation for him to understand leaked through. “I see it as well. There’s – there’s a lot riding on this for me, too.”

Anders’ expression softened suddenly. “Right. Okay. I’ll talk to them. If there’s no sign of change soon, they’re going to do something.” He paused, then cautiously, he continued, “Speaking of doing something… I need your help.”

“With what?”

 

* * *

 

Relm and Fenris were quiet when they returned home later in the day. Fenris scowled, and Relm chewed her bottom lip worriedly. But Relm could feel the tension roiling in the air. Rather than delay it, she went straight for the study, Fenris right behind her. Not a word was spoken until they had both laid down their weapons, when Fenris said, “I am skeptical of what he says he’s doing.”

Relm shut the door behind them. “You typically are,” she countered, though a part of her reflected the same doubt. Anders had asked them to help him collect ingredients for a potion he was making. He said it could help him separate from Justice. Relm had agreed, as had Aveline and Fenris, though far more begrudgingly.

“I mean it, Hawke,” Fenris growled. “He agreed far too easily to your and Aveline’s idea. And if this potion was always possible, why hadn’t he done so earlier?”

“Maybe he didn’t know about it before.”

“Or he’s lying and he’s planning something else. He’s not to be trusted. Given how distant he’s been and everything else-”

“ _Fenris._ ” Relm hated how she sounded like begging, but she was at her limit. She slumped into one of the chairs at the table where they had spent countless hours reading. “Please, I don’t – I can’t. I’m already being pulled in so many directions and…”

“I just do not want to see you betrayed again,” he murmured as he moved to kneel in front of her. “I do not want him to hurt you more. He’s already wounded you enough.”

It must be hard for Fenris, she realized as he took her face in his hands, to watch as a man he never trusted put her through the wringer. Nothing about this yielded an easy answer. “I know. You’re just trying to look out for me.” And she loved him for it. “It’s awful. All of this is going on, and all I can think about it how much I resent it. I finally sort things out with you and now all this is happening. Just once, I want everything to be okay.”

“Apparently that’s an unreasonable request.”

“So it seems.” Relm shifted and curled up against Fenris; he promptly put his arms around her, holding her close as they stood up. “While I can’t run from this forever, I just wish… a break would be nice, you know? Just for everything to calm down for a day and I could enjoy things.”

Fenris kissed the top of her head. “If your plan works, and everything settles, perhaps you can-”

His suggestion got cut off when they both started hearing muted noises coming from the foyer outside the door. Relm lifted her head slightly as the voices drew closer. “Who-”

With a loud bang, the door flew open. On the other side stood Carver, all tense and glaring. But the moment he saw them, his expression melted into utter bemusement.

“ _Carver_?” Relm blinked, unable to think of a reason why he was here. Not that she was complaining, but…

“Er…” He looked back and forth between them. “Well… I guess that answers my question.”

“What question?”

Carver regarded her oddly, brow furrowed for a moment before he dug into his pocket. From it emerged a folded up letter. “I got your letter.”

_…oh fuck._ Relm buried her face in her hands as the realization sunk in. Fenris’s shoulders shook with muted laughter. “Well,” he said to her, sounding far too amused, “that answers _your_ question about where that letter got to.”

“Okay, now I’m really confused,” Carver said.

“Let’s… let’s just sit down,” Relm pleaded through her hands. “This is going to require a lot of explaining.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeey, look who it is! Carver's back in town. Now how on earth did he get that letter...?


	43. Dwindling Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I am so sorry this is late. New video games + writer's block do not mix well. 
> 
> I'm also sorry if the past couple of chapters haven't been very enjoyable, judging by the dwindling reviews I've been getting. Things will pick up in the next chapter or two as we head towards the end! With that, here's the new chapter.

As the three of them sat down and the initial shock wore off, Relm devised a theory as to how this happened. She held up a finger, indicating for Carver to wait as she called for Bodahn. Her brother narrowed his eyes at her, but remained quiet.

The dwarf tottered in, smile in place as always. “Yes, serah?”

“Question for you: do you recall sending a letter out to Carver sometime within the past month or so?”

There was a pause as he thought it over. “Let’s see… ah, yes! I do remember seeing one on your desk for him. It was folded up and tucked to the side, I almost missed it! But I caught it and sent it out to him for you.”

And there was the mystery solved. Relm barely refrained from slapping her forehead. “Thank you, Bodahn. Just, ah… as a precaution, next time if you don’t see a letter in an envelope, ask me first before you send it out.”

“I certainly will. Is… everything all right? Was that letter-”

“No, no, it’s fine. Serves me right, really,” she muttered the last part. “That’s all I needed to know.”

Though he was vaguely aware something wasn’t quite right, Bodahn simply nodded and ducked back out, leaving the three alone in the study.

Carver casted a sidelong glance at his sister. “ _Now_ will you tell me what’s going on?”

“So… funny story-”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll be roaring in laughter.”

She kicked him under the table before continuing, “That letter wasn’t supposed to be sent out. It was a way to get my thoughts out.”

“But you addressed it to me.”

“I found it easier to do it if it felt like I was talking – or writing – to someone. It’s my fault for not tossing it after everything got resolved.”

A tentative pause ensued as Carver looked from her to Fenris, brow furrowed, then back to her. “So you two worked things out?”

Relm nodded.

He pointed to Fenris. “And it’s like your letter said, he knows everything?”

“Yes,” Fenris answered. “I’m aware of the truth.”

“ _Finally._ ” Carver slumped back against his seat, arms crossed. “No more bloody tip-toeing around it. So. What happened, exactly?”

Relm and Fenris took turns explaining to Carver what happened, speaking up to fill in details that the other hadn’t been there for. Though they both certainly left out a few; Relm didn’t think it wise to tell Carver just how close to despair she’d come, and Fenris left out the parts about the spirit. But they told him enough so he had a good grasp of what had happened by the time they finished.

“So, the monster’s dead and you got your happy ending.” Carver huffed out a laugh. “Damn I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see him die.”

“It explains why you two were so eager to help me the night we met,” Fenris said dryly. But his tone turned more serious as he continued, “What exactly do you know, Carver?”

Relm stiffened, but before she could cut in, Carver answered, “Enough to know he got what he deserved in the end. Relm didn’t spill all your secrets, but it’s hard not to want to know when it causes your sister to start screaming in the middle of the night.” He shook his head. “I still remember the night you got those markings. And the mess we had to help clean up.”

When Fenris glanced at Relm, clearly unsure as to what Carver meant, she sheepishly explained, “I vomited, from the pain.” Not wanting to continue to have Fenris’s life events commented on by Carver, she hastily added, “It wasn’t always like that. Anyway-”

“No, the other times you wouldn’t shut your mouth about him. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t ever believe what the elven boy did today!’” Carver’s impression of Relm’s voice was hardly flattering. “Or the usual complaining about how she didn’t-”

That earned him another hard kick under the table. A stab of pain shot up Relm’s leg as it connected with his greaves, but the curse it got out of him made it worth the effort. “Are you _trying_ to embarrass me?”

“Yes,” Carver said sullenly as he rubbed his leg. “Over twenty years of keeping it a bloody secret, I’m owed my due.”

Fenris watched the entire exchange with a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Sibling camaraderie at its finest.”

“I’d hate to see it at its worst.” Relm leaned back in her chair. “Okay, Carver, my turn. Why did you come all the way here, rather than just writing a letter back to me?”

The Warden paused, clearly caught red-handed about… something. He shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing. “Your letter sounded desperate, and I didn’t know what you would do. Writing a letter back would have been a waste of time, so I just came here instead.”

Relm didn’t buy it. Her eyes narrowed. “Carver…”

“That’s not the only reason, I suspect,” Fenris murmured. “Did you come to make good on your threat as well?”

The younger Hawke made an exasperated noise. “Oh, for – firstly, I didn’t threaten you. But I see you’ve decided to tell her _now_.”

“You never said I couldn’t-”

“ _Will someone,_ ” Relm butted in, “tell me what this is about? _What_ threat?”

Heaving out a sigh and shooting Fenris a look that would kill him on the spot if it could, Carver said, “He and I had a chat when we got back from that Warden prison. You were miserable, he was unknowingly causing it, and so I set a few things straight.”

“ _Carver-_ ”

“You told me I couldn’t tell him the truth. You said nothing about nudging him in the right direction, which I did. And I told him if he didn’t sort out his issues next time I came around, we’d be having a go. When I got your letter, I assumed the worst. So I came.”

Relm had underestimated him, she realized as she stared in blank shock. Underestimated how much he cared, and what he’d do for his family. Once upon a time, she thought he’d run off to join the king’s army for his own sake. But it hadn’t just been for him, he’d done it for his family, too. Everything he had done was to help their family. Being here likely incensed some of his higher ups, and who knew what excuse he concocted to be able to take leave. “I hate how good I am at making people worry.” Hawke offered Carver a smile, tinged with apology. “Not too fond of you threatening Fenris, whatever the reason, but… thank you, Carver. I’m okay, really.”

Immediately he relaxed. “You look better,” he commented. “Is it everything you thought it’d be, minus how you got here?”

“Not quite,” Relm admitted after a moment’s pause. “Some of it was much harder than I imagined, and I’ve come to realize a few uncomfortable truths about the whole thing.” But as she looked over at Fenris, her expression softened. “And yet, it was all worth it, in the end. Sure, there are some things I’d do differently if I had to do it all again. Still, it worked out. Sometimes I still can’t believe it.”

“Well then. There you go. Your happy ending.”

_Just like in the stories._ Relm shook her head. “Used to think that, too, but now I like to think of it as a beginning.”

“Hope. You got something back then, too. You remember it now?”

He really had been worried about her, and had taken her words to heart. If only she had realized it sooner. “I do. But let’s not confuse Fenris any further,” she said, glancing at the elf, who understandably looked puzzled. “You’ve missed a few things since you were last here.”

 

* * *

 

Shut in that study, the trio talked for a time, forgetting about the outside world and all the problems within it. Carver and Relm spoke the most, though Fenris chimed in on occasion. After filling Carver in what had transpired (Isabela getting her ship back, Merrill’s Keeper’s death and the falling out with the clan, among other things), the two siblings went on to reminisce about Ferelden and their childhood, recounting some of their escapades to Fenris.

Relm had imagined this scene once, a long time ago, though back then she pictured her entire family seated around the table with her, talking to Fenris and getting to know him. Now, Carver was all that remained of her family, and even the moment she had wanted only came about because of a mistake or two. Typical of her life, really.

_Better than nothing._

Their moment of tranquility dissipated when the door pushed open, Bodahn once again lurking in its shadow. “Sorry to bother you, messeres, but the guard captain and Master Tethras are here.”

Relm’s heart sank, like a lead weight that plummeted to her stomach and left her feeling nauseous. Ordinarily she’d be glad to see Aveline and Varric, but with recent events, she always worried what news they might bring with them.

“You don’t look exactly happy,” Carver murmured.

“They might not be here for a social call,” was all Fenris managed to say for Relm before the door opened wider, this time with Varric and Aveline walking through.

“Hawke, we-” Aveline stopped short when she spotted the room’s other occupant. “ _Carver_?”

“Junior!” Varric leapt at the opportunity to talk about something good, in his usual fashion. “Thought to sneak in a visit without us knowing? I’m hurt.”

Carver rolled his eyes. “Not exactly. This was…”

“Let’s call it a misunderstanding,” Relm finished. “But yes, Carver’s here. What’s going on?”

Varric sighed, the levity vanishing in a moment. “Even though I’m not sure how much good this will do-”

“I’m dragging him along to talk to Elthina,” Aveline said. “We could use a smooth talker.”

“You want to go _now_?”

“Yes, because I don’t trust that Anders isn’t up to something, or that he’s not helping that group out. So we need to act quickly, especially if our worst fears come to pass and she won’t help.”

The idea alone made Relm’s bones ache with weariness. She just wanted to rest and curl up with Fenris…

And like she bade him to speak with just her thoughts, the man snapped, “Can this really not wait another day, Aveline? Hawke’s been dragged around enough.”

“No, I don’t think it can, or should.” Aveline heaved out a sigh. “I’ve got a bad feeling, Hawke. Between the dead templars, and how Anders was acting earlier… I don’t think we have the luxury of time.”

There was no convincing Aveline otherwise, not when she was this keyed up. Relm pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to draw on more strength from her dwindling reserves. “Okay. But that’s all we’re doing. Whatever she says, we’ll take the next step tomorrow.”

“What’s going on?” Carver asked as everyone got to their feet. He followed suit, unsure.

“We’ll explain on the way there, if you want to tag along. Or you can hang back, or even just go to the Hanged Man or something.” She hoped he wouldn’t leave right away. It was starting to grow dark outside; travel would be hazardous if he left now. “I’m sure Isabela would keep you occupied.”

“Tempting, but I’ll go with you. I want to know what exactly Anders is doing that’s got _her_ so on edge.”

“Then we’ll walk and talk,” Aveline said. “Let’s go.”

As Aveline strode off, Carver following behind, Relm turned to let Fenris know she’d be home later, but he was already swinging his sword onto his back. The moment she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed a silencing kiss to her lips. “I will remain at your side” was all he said in way of argument.

“Stubborn,” she muttered.

From up ahead, a short bark of laughter shot out. “Pot, meet kettle!” Carver shouted back.

Relm sighed as she grabbed her staff. “Why did I miss him again?”

 

* * *

 

Something about approaching the Chantry and climbing those steps always set Relm on edge. Even before things took a turn for the worst in the city, the ascent into the Chantry unnerved her. The one in Lothering never had such an effect on her. Maybe it was the high walls that loomed over her. Or maybe it was what this Chantry stood for: the oppression of everything she held dear.

_Minor exaggeration,_ she chided herself as she walked inside. _But I have to say, I don’t feel entirely welcome in the house of the Maker these days._

The Grand Cleric stood behind the pulpit, paging over a copy of the Chant. She looked up when the group approached, her expression ever calm and unreadable. “Quite a procession. Captain, Champion, I assume you came here to speak with me?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Aveline took the lead in the discussion, which Hawke was more than happy to let her. “We wanted to talk to you about Knight Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino. The citizens grow warier of them every day. Something needs to be done to rein them both in.”

“I have spoken with them both,” Elthina said. “We need to give them time to work out their differences.”

“By letting them continue to have shouting matches in public?” Aveline asked incredulously. “By letting Meredith continue to investigate all these ‘acts of heresy’ unchecked? More people are getting hurt or killed in those raids of hers. The people of Kirkwall feel more and more unsafe by the day.”

“While it’s unfortunate, and I agree she needs to be more careful, she has found evidence of practitioners of such heretical acts. Those raids aren’t unjustified.”

“What about the mages?” Relm snapped. “What about the people who were falsely accused of being heretics?” She thought she could remain calm while talking to Elthina, but the unease she felt in coming here, coupled with Elthina’s flippant disregard, made it much harder. “She needs to be checked. And it’s not like Orsino’s complaints are _unjustified_ either.”

Elthina sighed quietly. “No good will come from me in choosing sides. And I would add that it’s no secret you count apostates amongst your friends, Champion. You’ve done much to fan the flames of rebellion.” She gestured to the city outside the doors. “Two templars were murdered earlier. There have been increasing reports of blood mages inside the Gallows, and the proponents of that soul mate heresy have re-emerged in the city as of late.”

_Don’t let the Grand Cleric on fire. Don’t set the Grand Cleric on fire…_ “You argue it’s the cause of Meredith’s actions, but I say it’s more the effect of them. Do the Chantry and the Maker not care for us mages at all?”

“I feel for the mages, I really do,” Elthina said. “I wouldn’t want to be locked up in the Gallows, either. But I cannot take sides. We are all the Maker’s creatures. But magic allows for abuses beyond the scope of mortals. I can only hope to balance the needs of everyone. For if it comes to war, it is the people of this city who will lose.”

Varric stepped in before Relm could argue more, likely sensing an explosion incoming. “I understand the position you’re in, Your Grace. But the talk in the town doesn’t bode well for the knight-commander. The nobility is unhappy with her, and even the Merchant’s Guild finds her kind of, shall we say, off-putting? And she hasn’t even done anything to directly affect them. Not to mention there’s a lot more sympathy going around for Orsino and the mages recently.” Which said quite a lot, considering he was a mage. Not to mention an elf. “No one wants her to stop doing her job. All we ask is that you ask her to tone down these raids for a while. Being a viscount and a knight commander is pulling her in a lot of directions. In fact, I’d recommend she step down as Viscount and let the nobility sort that out. That’ll make them happy, and then she can focus on the Gallows.”

“Convincing words, Master Tethras,” Elthina said with a smile. “I wish it were that easy. My power isn’t so vast as you make it out to be, and I cannot stop Meredith if she truly is finding heretics and blood mages. As a templar, she must be allowed to carry out her sworn duty.”

Relm’s fist bunched up at her side. “Can’t stop her? You absolutely can, especially if the peace you claim to be working towards depends on it! Meredith needs to be checked, whether by you or the Seekers. She’s gone too far! How many more people are going to die before you recognize that?”

The Grand Cleric’s smile vanished. “Champion, do not make so light of a mention as the Seekers. They’ve already been here, however.”

“What?” both guard captain and Champion exclaimed at once.

“A few months ago, they launched an investigation. Such things are always kept quiet; the Seekers work in secrecy. While they urged Meredith to be gentler in her actions, they found nothing to suggest she was out of line or that the mages were incurring the abuses they claim to have been.”

It felt like an icy cold fist squeezed Hawke’s heart. The Seekers had been Plan B. That just left the city’s nobility, and the hope that they could force Meredith to step down. But it would do nothing to help the mages, and it might not even stop the raids from continuing.

“There you are!”

Relm startled at the voice calling out to her suddenly. She turned, only to find Anders coming towards her, a fake smile plastered on his face. “I was looking all over for – oh, hello Your Grace,” he said as he approached them, nodding to her.

“Your soul is troubled, child,” she murmured. “I hope you found a balm for it here.” She glanced then at Hawke. “As is yours, Champion. As a mage, I understand you sympathize more with your fellows in the Gallows, but as Champion you, too, must remain impartial. And you must understand, these heretics must be flushed out. The Divine has declared it as such. The city suffered them many years ago, far before your time. It must not happen again.”

_I need to get out of here, because I can’t think of a damn good reason to not set her on fire right now and-_

“Hawke.” Fenris took her by the arm. “We need to go. We’re late, remember?”

“Right,” Varric said, quicker than Hawke on the take and playing along with Fenris’s lie. “If you’ll excuse us, Your Grace. Our friend here luckily remembered there’s somewhere the Champion needs to be.”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace,” Aveline said, grabbing Anders while Fenris led Relm out of the Chantry. Carver and Varric followed shortly behind.

Once outside, and clear of any onlookers, Relm stomped up to the nearest solid object – a wall – and kicked it hard. “Nug fucking, piss-eared, damnable woman of the Maker!” Immediately she regretted that kick as pain shot up her foot and leg, making her curse and flinch as she grabbed at her foot.

Anders sighed, bending down and grabbing her foot before casting a healing spell. “The poor wall didn’t do anything to you.”

Relm seriously considered screaming into her hands, but as she looked at them, Fenris’s hands covered them. Their eyes met when she looked up, met with concern etched into his brow and eyes searching her face. “I am sorry that did not go as well as you had hoped.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” She leaned into him. “Piss and shit. The Seekers found nothing? How?”

Aveline sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she walked up to her friend. “There goes that. The nobility’s our best bet now.”

With Hawke’s foot healed (which she murmured a thanks to Anders for), Anders got to his feet. “Now you understand what we’re up against. The nobility are afraid of Meredith and they won’t be able to help the Circle Mages, even if they wanted to. The Seekers failed. And you wonder why the resistance attacked those templars.” He shook his head. “I know you’re trying to keep the peace, Hawke, and I respect that. But there comes a time where peace no longer works.”

“Anders-”

“Okay, okay,” Varric stepped in. “let’s not drag up that debate again. We’re all a bit rattled. How about some drinks at the Hanged Man? Since Junior’s here.”

“I should get back-”

“Oh come on,” Varric chided. “Just one night, Junior. You came all the way out here – which I still want to hear that particular story – and it’s getting late. It’ll cheer your sister up. Look at her poor face, she’s distraught.”

Despite how he rolled his eyes, Carver caved and agreed to stay the night. And despite how Varric suggested it teasingly, it _did_ cheer Relm up a bit. She needed a drink or five after the day she had.

Anders said he’d meet them there later – after promising not to debate soul mates or the plight of mages. As Relm watched Anders walk away, a heavy realization sunk into her. He was going to force her to make an impossible choice. She didn’t know when and how, but it would happen. His mind was set.

But she kept that thought to herself; it didn’t need to be spoken. She saw the same grim realization in the faces of her friends as they began to walk.

“That’s a man itching for a fight,” Carver murmured when Anders disappeared into the distance. “Be careful, Sister.”

“I know.”

With that, they set off for the Hanged Man.

It’d be the last night they would spend in that bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm. Y'all know what's coming. See you next update.


	44. The Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....welp
> 
> First of all, I find myself apologizing again for yet another very late chapter. Real life got crazy for awhile there. But, I got my own place and got accepted into grad school, so it's all good things! (mostly). Still, writing had to take a backseat for a bit. I'm looking to change that, though.
> 
> That said, here's the next chapter, finally. I'm... sure you all recognize the title.

The Hanged Man, with its familiar stench and rowdy patrons, remained unchanged throughout all the years Relm patronized it. While the city around it morphed from the events of the last few years, it remained the same as ever: a place removed from the flow of time. She always knew what to expect when she walked in, and given the tumult of her life in Kirkwall, that meant more to her than she could describe.

So she sat down with her friends and ordered the same stale, shitty ale the tavern always served. They pulled out the same deck of cards and played Wicked Grace. The sight of Isabela grinning as she called Varric’s bluff and the sounds of their laughter as Fenris managed to pull one over the pirate comforted her. The only difference to tonight was Carver, playing along and doing his best to outwit Isabela and Varric. While not entirely successful, he held up better than he had in the past.

“You’ve gotten better, Junior,” Varric remarked as he slid his earnings towards him. “Who knows? Maybe one day you might manage to bluff well enough to win.”

“The benefits of having former criminals in the Wardens,” he murmured as he tossed down his cards. “And playing with a few of them now.”

There was a bit of dramatic sputtering and denials. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Isabela quipped.

“Mercenary work isn’t criminal all the time,” Carver said. “And last I checked, piracy still was, _Captain_ Isabela.”

“Please, I haven’t done any pirating in years now.”

“Yes, we know, you lost your boat.” Carver cocked a brow at her. “But my sister tells me you got a ship from Castillon. Yet you remain in Kirkwall.”

“Takes time to put together a crew.”

“Have you been actively seeking new crew mates?”

“I’ve put out feelers. You can’t exactly post a note to the Chanter’s board asking for people to join your crew. Not for what I need them for, anyway.”

Relm’s lips twitched in humor. “I’ll give you five sovereigns if you do it, just to see what the Mothers would do.”

Sebastian sighed in exasperation. “ _Please_ do not, that’s not what the board is for. It’s meant to request help and employ people in good, honest work.”

“Oh Sebastian, I can tell you all sorts of stories about how it’s very good work.” Isabela winked at him.

And so began the usual back-and-forth between Relm’s friends. Relm laughed silently as she listened, leaning against Fenris’s shoulder as the bantering keyed up a notch, with Aveline somehow getting dragged into it. His hand wrapped around hers under the table, fingers intertwined. “How long before this ends with Sebastian blushing and Isabela cackling?” he asked under his breath.

“Give it another five minutes, maybe?”

But the bantering screeched to a halt as Isabela realized that, up against Sebastian and Aveline, she stood little chance of winning. Instead, she spun on Hawke with a grin. “Speaking of crew, you two should join me.” She pointed two fingers at Relm and Fenris.

Relm blinked owlishly at the sudden offer. “Me and Fenris? I can’t exactly up and leave Kirkwall.”

“Of course you can. Who’s going to stop you?”

“I’m Champion, Isabela.”

“And you get paid how much, exactly?” Isabela snorted at Relm’s answering blank stare. “It’s just a title. It’s not an actual position. And look, it doesn’t have to be forever. We can swing by here on occasion to make sure the estate’s fine and everything.”

The sad thing was, Relm felt sorely tempted. Not that she was sure she’d make for a great pirate, but the chance to get out of Kirkwall and travel won out over her doubts. “And who’d take care of it while I was gone? What if things hit the ceiling here?”

Isabela ticked off her answers with her fingers. “You have Bodahn, Sandal and Orana. Ask Varric or Aveline to look after it while you’re gone. Big girl could move in with her man. As for the city, so what? If things come to a head, they’ll do so whether or not you’re here.”

Anders shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Relm spared him a glance, waiting for him to spout off a lecture. When he said nothing, she turned to Isabela. “I…”

Varric leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Rivaini, I’d almost say you put some thought into this.”

“It crossed my mind before. Hawke’s a good mage, and Fenris can magically fist people. Who wouldn’t want them on a crew?” She shrugged. “Besides, Fenris is free now. He should see the world more while not having to run from slavers all the time. And Hawke could do with getting out of this place.”

Relm agreed with her point about Fenris, but she had to ask, “What do you mean?”

“This place has just made you miserable. And yes, I know there were _other reasons_ for all the months of misery, but this place contributed. I haven’t heard you say ‘No, Bela, I really want to stay in Kirkwall, I love it here’.”

_…I hate it when she gets all perceptive on me._

“Think about it,” the pirate said with a smile and a nudge from her foot. “There’s time yet.”

 

* * *

 

Slightly tipsy and more than a little tired, Relm made the long trek back home in between Fenris and Carver. The first half of the walk home was quiet. The two men hardly chatted, and where Relm would normally fill the silence, she instead spent it thinking.

Was it the fault of this city that she had become so much quieter and sadder? She wasn’t the same person she was when she came here. The past two years in particular had been difficult. But it had been hard ever since she arrived. First in trying to make money, then losing Carver to the Wardens. Of course there was all the trouble she’d gotten into, both willingly and not. Hiding as an apostate, trying to help her city and her friends, and then the conflict with the Qunari came to a head. That was also around the time she lost her mother and she and Fenris separated. Looking back, she hardly had any respite while in Kirkwall. There was always some crisis to deescalate or problem to solve.

Maybe Isabela was right; maybe she _did_ need to leave, for her and Fenris’s sake.

“Not a word out of her yet,” Carver said to Fenris, snapping Relm out of her thoughts. “Either she’s that tired or she’s thinking.”

“It’s both,” Relm mumbled.

Fenris kept his eyes on their surroundings. “Isabela’s offer?”

“…yes.” Her cheeks burned with shame. She knew she had an obligation to the city and its people. She shouldn’t even be considering leaving.

“You want to be a pirate?” Carver asked incredulously.

Relm huffed out a laugh. “Not really. But I do want to travel. I don’t want all the responsibility and burdens.” The words tumbled out, aided by her inebriation. “I’m… tired of it. Ever since Father died, I’ve been taking care of my family or my friends or whatever troubles are laid at my feet. I don’t resent it, but it’s been years. I could use with a break.”

“Isabela had a point,” Fenris said quietly. “Champion is an honorary title. You’re not bound to this place, at least not in any true sense. Only your sense of duty and obligation are keeping you here.”

“If it weren’t for Meredith and Orsino at each other’s throats, I’d be more inclined to go. But I don’t want to be seen as abandoning this place when it needs me most.”

“Doesn’t make for good timing, no,” Carver agreed. “How long do you think things will get sorted out?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the problem. Even if she could get the nobles to successfully petition Meredith to step down, that wouldn’t stop the abuses in the Gallows or her raids. “It could be months.”

“Nothing needs to be decided tonight,” Fenris pointed out. “I’ll only say this: my home is with you. Where you go, I follow. I am not opposed to leaving this city, if that is what you decide.”

_Sweet man._ Relm smiled at him. “But what about what _you_ want? That matters, too.” She remembered their talk years ago, about being on the run and wanting to a place to settle down. He finally had that within his grasp.

“I never expected to stay here as long as I have,” he admitted. “Could we make a life of it here? I imagine so. But is it worth the cost to you?”

“If those two would just behave…”

“But as you said, that could take months. Our past… issues already took an enormous toll on you. I do not want to see the rest of you whittled down to nothing by their bickering. You saved Kirkwall from the Qunari, Hawke. You’ve done plenty.”

And that, perhaps, lied at the heart of it. Fenris wanted to protect her from further harm. He would prioritize her and she would prioritize him. It’d get nowhere.

“Carver?”

He hummed under his breath. “It’s a big world out there. Bigger than Ferelden and this city. Maybe you’ve found your niche here. Maybe it’s all just holding you back. What it comes down to is, what are you going to be able to live with?”

“Ever so helpful,” she muttered. Though he posited a good question…

“Then flip a coin,” he snarked back, pulling one out of his pocket. “You call it, I’ll flip.”

“Ass.”

 

* * *

 

Could it be so simple as a toss of a coin? She wished it were so, but she knew better. Still, despite having eventually agreed to shelf the matter for now, Relm found herself awake for a while, debating it. Even when sleep finally came for her, it chased her in her dreams. The spirits – or demons – of the Fade dangled both possibilities in her face, exaggerating the consequences of both until she woke up, scant hours later, in a cold sweat.

As she rubbed her eyes, and heard Fenris stir, someone began pounding heavily on the front door. Her head snapped up, her thoughts alert and attention sharpened as she shot out of bed. Fenris climbed out after her. Both threw on their clothes, reaching for weapons.

Fenris exited first, markings glowing faintly at the ready as he shoved open the bedroom door. Carver was already out in the hall as well. “Who the piss is it at this hour?”

From downstairs, Bodahn scuttled hurriedly towards the door as the hammering continued. “Coming!” he shouted.

Relm, Fenris and Carver rushed down the stairs after him.

Just as they hit the foyer, he opened the door. Aveline immediately pushed her way in. “Hawke.”

“Aveline, what the _-_ “

“It’s Orsino and Meredith,” the guard captain cut in. “Something happened, I don’t know what, but it’s bad. They’re both going for the Chantry now.” Aveline swallowed thickly. “Hawke, I think this is it.”

All Hawke managed was “Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

Armor got thrown on in record time. The four of them raced towards the Chantry. Aveline warned the others earlier; everyone but Anders met them along the way. When asked where he was, Varric shrugged. “No clue.”

Relm’s stomach turned.

They had no time to wait. They sprinted towards the Chantry. Along the road there, at the bottom of the steps before the path leading up, a crowd of mages and templars had gathered. In front of the stairs stood Orsino and Meredith, arguing back and forth with a vehemence Relm hadn’t seen before.

“I will have the tower searched, top to bottom!”

“You have no right!”

“I have every right. You are harboring blood mages and heretics. I intend to root them out before they infect this city further!”

Orsino threw his hands up in the air. “Blood magic! Where _don’t_ you see it? My people cannot sneeze without being accused of corruption! And anyone who so much bats an eye at someone gets slapped with charges of heresy!”

They kept bickering until Relm cut in. “Enough! What is this?”

“This does not concern you, Champion,” Meredith sneered.

“She should know what you’ve done. The people should know what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve _done_ is protect the people of this city time and time again. From mages, from their curse, and from their own stupidity. I will not stop doing it, I will not lower our guard. I dare not!”

“And what if she does not find what she’s looking for?” Orsino felt more inclined to address Hawke now than Meredith. “How much further will she go to root out something that isn’t there? For all those raids in the city, there’s been even more inside the Circle. She sees blood magic and heretics everywhere!”

Meredith turned her back to him and implored Hawke, “Tell me, Champion, have you not seen with your own eyes what they can do, heard the lies of mages that seek power? You’ve witnessed the length heretics will go to!”

A dozen responses hung at the tip of Relm’s tongue, each more damning than the last. _So_ now _it’s my concern?_ or _Aren’t I supposedly one of those very mages?_ or even _Don’t you fucking drag my mother’s death into this you hag._ A part of her knew that she needed to watch her step. But Maker, she was so tired of playing nice with this fiend. “Lying and seeking power isn’t limited to just mages,” she pointed out. If Meredith could toss thinly veiled, pointed insults, so could she.

Spurred by Hawke’s response, Orsino said, “You would cast us all as villains, but it is not so!”

There was a pause. A calculated one. Relm watched as Meredith’s stern expression melted into remorse. “I know, and it breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant. If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant!”

_She really does try to own the ‘beleaguered templar battling against the horde of blood mages and heretics’ image, doesn’t she?_

Aveline, standing alongside Hawke, muttered under her breath, “Well, if you bloody listened to anyone…”

Orsino scoffed, buying Meredith’s act about as much as Relm did. “This is getting us nowhere. Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this!”

Meredith grabbed him, forbidding him from dragging her into their dispute. Relm groaned, sensing another argument brewing.

Then suddenly, from somewhere behind Relm and friends, a familiar voice rang out, “The Grand Cleric cannot help you!”

They all turned, stunned as Anders walked up to the feuding duo, staff clearly in sight.

Relm’s eyes widened. _What is he-_

“Explain yourself, mage!” Meredith hissed.

“I will not stand by and watch you treat mages like criminals while those who lead us bow to their templar jailers!” He slammed his staff into the ground once.

“How dare you speak to me-”

“The Circle has failed us, Orsino! Even you should be able to see that!” Bright blue cracks formed along his skin; Justice was showing his face here. They disappeared, but Anders continued, “She oppresses us for what we are, and for what we know to be true. Mages have suffered for too long at her hands. Soul mates torn apart because of her. The time has come to act. There can be no half-measures.”

Aveline and Fenris were right. He _had_ been planning on something. Relm hadn’t really wanted to see it, to believe it, but now that it stared her in the face, it was too late. “Anders,” she pleaded, reaching out to him. “what have you done?”

“There can be no turning back.” He looked at her, expression determined but remorseful. “I’m sorry, Hawke.”

The ground shook. People stumbled and fell, trying to keep their footing. Relm nearly fell back, only avoiding it thanks to Fenris and Carver catching her.

A bright, terrible beam of red light shot out from the Chantry. It tore into the sky, lighting up the whole area as cracks spread through the Chantry walls. The red light peered through the cracks until the whole building lit up, and then, with a deafening boom, the light exploded outwards, taking the Chantry – and any chance at peace – with it.

The debris rained down around them, hurtling into buildings and sending people running and screaming. Once it finally ended, there was a long moment of silence, a held breath that waited as the shock wore off and reality sunk in.

It was the breath before the plunge, and Relm realized in that moment that her decision had just been made for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The post-boom reactions and the end game quest are up next, folks. See you then.


	45. Standing Her Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A line in the sand is drawn, and Relm finds herself making the decision she'd been trying to avoid since the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here we go. As the last chapter indicated, we're now in the midst of endgame. So, content warning for all the stuff that mission entails.
> 
> I'm leaving for Disney tomorrow morning (well, technically today since it's after midnight whoops) but I'll try and get to reviews and responses from last chapter soon! I am up way later than I should be and really need to sleep. Without further do, here's the new chapter.

Relm closed her eyes. She hoped that when she opened them, she’d wake up in her bed with the relief that this was a nightmare.

Her eyes opened. She wasn’t in bed. She was still surrounded by her friends, templars and mages, all as shocked as her at the billowing cloud of smoke trailing from where the chantry once stood. All save for Anders, who stood resolute as he stared down at what he had done.

“ _Elthina!_ ” Sebastian cried out, falling to his knees. “No…Maker, no! She was Your most faithful, Your most beloved! Why didn’t she _listen_ to me?”

“Maker have mercy,” Meredith murmured.

Orsino wheeled on Anders. “What have you _done_?” he hissed. “How could you? Why would you do such a thing?”

“There can be no peace,” Anders answered. “I removed the chance of compromise, because there can be no compromise.”

Meredith snapped out of her stupor and turned as well, shock hardening into deadly resolve. “The grand cleric has been slain by magic, the chantry destroyed. As knight-commander, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed immediately.”

All their hopes of stopping this fight, everything they tried now amounted to nothing. Relm’s heart fell, stomach twisting in knots. “Wait-“

“The Circle didn’t even do this!” Orsino cried out. “Champion, please! Help us stop this madness!”

“And I demand you stand with us!” Meredith shot back. “Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated. A mage, a _heretic_ destroyed the chantry and murdered the Grand Cleric.”

“Why are we debating the Right of Annulment when the monster who did this is right here?” Sebastian pointed a finger at Anders.

In a way, he was right. Relm felt less sure about the _monster_ part (though _infernal, idiotic, Maker damned asshole_ came to mind). But he had a point. And it made it all the clearer that Meredith truly wanted nothing more than to annul the Circle and purge the mages within. All she had needed was an excuse.

Anders, brow heavy but shoulders squared, said, “It can’t be stopped now. You have to choose, Hawke.”

In a way she always knew it was going to come down to this choice, but hadn’t wanted to face it. Tonight would mean the end of everything she had worked for and built. All because of this. A part of her wanted to punch Anders, to shake his shoulders and scream at him. But perhaps he only sped up the inevitable.

“So this was your plan.”

“Yes. I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle, but the Circles are an injustice, here and outside of Kirkwall. The world needs to see. It needs to see it, and to know that someone is willing to stand up to the mistreatment of mages and those of us who know the truth.”

“What about the grand cleric? What about the mages that are going to die in this?” Relm wondered why she was even bothering, but it had to be said. “What about them? Their blood-”

“Is on my hands, I know.”

“You’ve doomed us all,” Orsino said.

“We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later. I’d rather die fighting.”

 _But what about the other mages? Where’s their say in this?_ My _say in this?_ Everyone was left with no choice in this fight. But Relm had one choice, and that was who to stand with. She looked back over her shoulder at the others, all standing around and watching. Waiting. Her eyes fell on Fenris. Just when they had finally found their happiness… _I’m sorry._

Sorry for their brief interlude coming to an end, and sorry for the choice she was about to make.

“Well, Orsino, this is going to suck dragon balls, but I’m going to do everything I can to defend you and your lot.”

“But what of And-”

Relm held up a hand to silence Sebastian. “Not now.”

“Well,” Varric murmured. “don’t know if we’re gonna win _this_ fight, but I’m with you, Hawke.”

“Shit Isabela, what have you gotten yourself into?” she murmured, amongst a backdrop of support from the others.

Fenris walked up next to Hawke, glancing down at her with a furrowed brow.

“You don’t have to-”

“How is it that you always manage to get me into these unthinkable situations?” Fenris shook his head. “Including defending these… mages.”

“My good looks and sunny disposition?”

Before Fenris could think of a retort, Meredith cut into the banter with a dire warning: “If you choose to stand with them, you’ll share their fate, Champion.”

“I can live with that.”

“Thank the Maker,” Orsino breathed out.

Meredith’s glower deepened, fist bunching at her side. “You are a fool, Champion.”

“And you’re a raging, deluded cunt, Meredith,” Relm shot back.

Less than pleased, Meredith shouted, “Kill them all!” Beckoning to her men, she strode out. “I’ll rally the rest of the Order!”

Relm swung out her staff and charged at the templars, barring them from going after the mages. Orsino yelled at his charges to get to safety while Relm and company battled the templars.

Once they had fallen, Orsino said, “I don’t know if we’ll win this war, Champion, but thank you.” He cast an ugly look at Anders, who had taken a seat on a crate off to the side. “I’ll leave you to deal with your… friend. I must get to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can.”

Orsino took his leave. In that courtyard remained Relm and her friends. Hawke inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, hoping once again that this would be a dream. Of course, it wasn’t, and she was less disappointed when she opened them again. Now, she had another decision to make, though she suspected she had less of a say in this than how it appeared on the surface.

“There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself,” Anders said, not looking at her as she approached. “This is the justice all mages have waited for. This is the justice that… that _we’ve_ waited for.”

Maybe this was Justice talking. Maybe this was just the culmination of too many years of trying to do things peacefully, and Anders finally snapping. Maybe… maybe it no longer mattered. It was done. No amount of arguing would put the Chantry back together or restore the lives lost.

“We?”

“You. Me. Karl. Rose and Tislin. Those two young lovers who got caught. Meredith’s not just out to yoke mages. She’d see those of us who know the truth silenced permanently. And we let them chain and bludgeon us with our blessing. This is a chance to break those chains, and if I pay for that with my life, then I’ll accept it.”

It occurred to her, when he mentioned Karl, what else might be behind this. Relm knelt in front of him, heart and shoulders heavy. “…this is how you want to go out? That was – that was always your intention, wasn’t it?”

“We both knew I wasn’t going to hold out forever.” Anders smiled sadly. “No, I never had any intention of surviving this. You gave me a good last few years, Hawke, and you were a good friend. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you better.”

He wanted to die. Karl’s death numbered Anders’s own days, and now his time was up. By his own volition, perhaps, but at least he got to make that choice. Knowing that, and knowing what likely awaited him if he was set free – a life on the run from authorities, hated by the populace and mages worldwide – she knew there was only one thing left to do. Reaching for the knife, her hand felt sluggish. Unwilling. Her heart begged her not to do this, but she knew she had to.

She struggled with what to say. These would be her last words to him. Sure, she was furious with him, and hurt, but was that how she wanted their last interaction to be: full of anger and pain? She choked out a sob, but forced a smile. “Damn you, you stubborn ass. Making a wreck and leaving me to clean it up. Like enough people don’t do that.”

“Seemed fitting.” Anders bowed his head, what little mirth in his tone evaporating as he continued, “One day, someone like you and me will find their mate and not have to hide it. One day, mages won’t live in chains. I’m sorry I won’t live to see it, but maybe you will.” He looked back up, a pained smile in place. “You and Fenris… keep each other close. And don’t ever forget how lucky you are.”

Relm nodded. She pulled Anders into a hug, eyes closed as she steeled herself. When she opened her eyes, as ready as she would ever be, she found the others watching in silence. Her eyes met Fenris’s. His expression remained unreadable, but he stared at her intently, waiting for the inevitable.

“I’m gonna miss you. Good-bye, Anders.” Relm bit her bottom lip, trying not to lose her nerve and back out. _Do it. Put him out of his misery._ She shifted back incrementally, making just enough room to thrust the knife into his gut.

Anders made a choked sound. His body spasmed in pain. Relm wrenched the knife in, trying to hurry up the process so he didn’t suffer. She didn’t look at him; she couldn’t bring herself to.

“I… I see him. Karl.”

Anders slumped against her, his body limp. Relm yanked out the knife and tossed it away. She held her friend tightly, lowering him to the ground. A shuddering cry tore out of her as he laid on the ground, lifeless. She killed her friend. She’d never be able to talk to him again, to laugh or commiserate. Even though he wanted it, guilt wracked her. Tears leaked from her eyes as she sobbed. _What have I done?_

Fenris was kneeling in front of her within moments, guiding her gaze away from Anders. “Hawke.” He pulled her head onto his shoulder, facing her away from the body. “We can’t linger and mourn. I am sorry. It will have to wait.”

“I know.” She sniffled, burying her face into his shoulder. “I know.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Tears could come later. Right now, they had to fight. Relm gave Fenris’s hand a squeeze before standing up, wiping at her eyes. “Okay.” She glanced back at Anders one more time, wishing desperately things could have been different. _But that’s what he wanted to do: make things different. Just… why did it have to cost his life?_

Fenris got to his feet, pulling her up with him. Relm wrenched her gaze away from Anders, leaving him behind as she and Fenris walked back to the others.

Carver rubbed a hand over his face. “Well. This visit turned out to be more than I expected. What a mess.”

Varric shook his head. “Ah, Blondie… damn it.”

“He made his choice, and now we have to fight this battle.” Aveline looked to Hawke. “We’re going to have to carve a path to the Gallows. I hope you’re ready.”

“I have to be. I made my choice, too.” She motioned to everyone. “Let’s go. We’re in for a long night.”

 

* * *

 

It hurt, each step she took. Anders’s loss haunted her as they made their way through the city. His absence was felt as injuries mounted, leaving Relm to attend to them. But she wasn’t Anders, she didn’t have his skill. It forced her to curtail offensive magic in battle to save her mana for healing afterwards. Because of it, Merrill took on more of the heavy lifting, and the others compensated for the loss of magical firepower. The loss of one companion drastically altered the dynamics of their party.

After one particularly vicious battle, Relm sank to her knees, fighting to catch her breath. Her shoulder smarted from the injury she incurred during their skirmish with Danarius; a demon had reopened the nearly healed wound. Her magic sputtered and struggled to close it back up.

“Let me,” Fenris murmured, kneeling next to her with a healing poultice.

“I thought you didn’t have any left?”

“This is my last.” He poured it over her injury, closing it up. “We will have to be more cautious moving forward.”

“Tell that to the templars and demons we keep running into,” Relm groused as she shakily got to her feet. Quietly, she added as he stood up next to her, “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your doing, Relm.”

“But I could have done more. You even said that he was up to something, and I did nothing.”

“You _were_ trying to do something. Unfortunately, his method proved quicker.”

She shuffled her feet. “It’s just… I don’t know, maybe it was inevitable. But I still hoped it could be circumvented. I wanted things to be peaceful, normal. I wanted… I wanted to give you a home.” A place that was safe that he could always come back to. A shelter from the world, with someone inside who loved him. A place to put down roots, as he once put it.

Fenris leaned his forehead against hers, his voice low. “I told you before: you _are_ my home. Not that mansion, not this city. You. I meant it: where you go, I follow. Your presence by my side matters more than whatever roof we have over our heads.”

Relm shuddered out a breath. She wished she could hold him, draw on the strength he always seemed to exhibit from his soul. But now wasn’t the time. Instead, she took a moment to center herself. She had Fenris and she had Carver. She had her friends, at least what was left of them. And Maker willing, they would get out of this alive.

“Have to break up the moment here,” Carver cut in, drawing the pair’s attention. “but we’ve got people asking for you, sister.”

Relm’s gaze followed to where Carver pointed. A ways down from the fringes of their group stood a contingent of people Relm vaguely recognized.

“Wait here.” She walked past her friends and towards the other group. Some stood with staves out, and some bore swords or daggers. All had blood on them. “What do you want?”

“Even Myrella didn’t want this,” a woman said, the apparent de facto leader. “And before you ask: no, we didn’t know Anders was planning this, either.”

“What exactly _do_ you lot know? You didn’t know about Myrella’s plans, and you didn’t know about Anders’s.”

The woman took some offense to that, judging by the way her expression darkened, but whatever her thoughts, she kept them to herself. Instead, she said, “We know that Meredith ordered the templar dogs to hunt down known – more like suspected – “heretics”. They’re not content with just murdering mages, now they’re murdering citizens.”

 _“What_?” Both Relm and Aveline said this, the latter stomping up to them.

“What do you mean?” Aveline added.

“It’s like I said.”

“But _why_?”

“I guess Anders claimed himself to be a believer before he made the Chantry go boom. Wish he hadn’t, because now the crazy bitch probably thinks there was a whole conspiracy behind it. That he had help.” The woman sighed. “Our activities leading up to this… probably are contributing. But if we had known-”

“It doesn’t matter what was known or not known,” Relm cut in.

“No, I suppose not. We’re here now.” The woman glanced at Aveline. “Have to hand it to your guardsmen. They’re doing a damn good job of keeping the people safe. We’re helping as much as we can. Got some leery looks, but they’ve got enough sense to not turn away help.”

A point of pride, Relm knew, and if the circumstances weren’t so dire, she know Aveline would be gloating a bit. But the situation dampened it to the point where she only nodded in acknowledgment. “Have many been lost?”

She shook her head. “They’re giving the templars a run for their coin. We’re helping, and we’ll keep doing so, but there’s more of them than there are us. Meredith has to be stopped; it’s only a matter of time before the templars overtake us.”

“Then we need to move. I’ll get the others moving.” Aveline and Relm exchanged a knowing look before she hoofed it back, hollering for everyone to get ready. They needed to push for the Gallows, and push hard.

“Stop her, Hawke,” the woman murmured. “I wish we didn’t have to keep asking you to put down blonde women gone mad, but they seem to keep springing up. You’re the best shot Kirkwall has. Stop her before she burns this whole fucking city down.”

 

* * *

 

The party came at last to the docks, finding them abandoned. Crates and barrels were upended and left where they had been dropped. The usual chatter and uproar from the dock workers was replaced by the distant screams and sounds of panic rising from the city.

Whether it was exhaustion or the gravity of what was going on around them, the group of friends remained entirely silent as they crossed the water. It wasn’t until they reached the Gallows and got off the boat that Relm lifted the quiet shroud. “Sorry your visit turned into this, Carver.”

“It wouldn’t be us if something didn’t go tits up. Can’t wait to explain this to my commander.”

“Something to the effect of ‘My sister stayed here too long and by proxy, it all went to shit’?”

“While sitting on a beehive that was itching to be kicked.”

“And ruled over by the world’s angriest, craziest queen bee.” Relm sighed, looking out over the Gallows courtyard. The bodies of templars and mages alike littered the ground. “We need to find Orsino. Let’s hope he and more mages have gotten somewhere safe for now.”

The normally heavily guarded doors that led into the Gallows proper now laid destroyed on the ground, ripped off the hinges. Hawke and company pressed further inside; it didn’t take long before they finally ran into the fighting.

A group of templars had a dozen mages pinned. The numbers had been higher on both sides at one point, judging by the bodies around them. Even as Relm surged forward, the templars struck down another mage. The survivors cried out to for her help.

“Go! Go!” she shouted as she hurled a Stone Fist at one of the templars.

As they turned their attention on her, the others swooped in, arrows and spells flying as they clashed with the templars. One tried to bring his sword down on her, but Carver blocked it with a parry. He shoved the templar off and ran them through on the spot.

“Appreciate it,” Relm said to him as she send a thunderbolt through the last templar. “Not the most seasoned lot here. Those are probably with Meredith.” As she looked up, she noticed that while most of the mages had fled like she said, one had stayed behind. Said mage crept out of hiding from behind a pillar.

“You’re the Champion?” she asked quietly.

“I am. Why didn’t you run?”

“The First Enchanter. He needs your help. They all do. The knight-commander found them and has been pushing them back further into the Gallows. Some of us managed to splinter away to escape. He asked if we saw you on the way, we’d point you to him. They headed that way.” With her finger she indicated where they’d gone. “They’ll hold up beyond the inner courtyard, I think. Last I heard, anyway. We found a side passage that got us around Meredith and her templars. We didn’t run into any until we came out here and found this bunch. They must have been guarding the entrance.”

Relm cursed under her breath. She feared exactly this happening. “What’s Orsino’s plan beyond that?”

“Mages used to be able to escape the Gallows through a mage underground, as they called it. The templars found the perpetrators and dealt with them, but the old passages remain. He’s hoping to hold off Meredith long enough for us to use the passages and get out.” The mage absently rubbed her arm; Relm saw a bit of blood smear. “It’s all we have. She and her templars have flanked them and prevented them from escaping over the water.”

“Are there many mages with Orsino?”

The girl nodded. “Some of us managed to get out into the city, but most of the ones still alive are with the First Enchanter. Please help them, Champion. I have a brother who’s with them. And most of my friends. We didn’t do blood magic. We did everything they asked. And yet they’re still going to kill us.” Her arms wrapped around her body. “I don’t understand. Why?”

If only Relm had a good enough answer. But neither anything she could say, nor any of Anders’s justifications would do. To this girl, her whole life just got upended and put in jeopardy. How could Relm stand there and say it was all for the sake of freedom? Freedom this girl may never have asked for, even if she deserved it.

“Understanding it won’t change anything right now. Get to a boat and get out of here. I’ll find Orsino, I promise.”

The girl nodded, thanking her. As she walked past, Isabela stopped her. She reached into her belt and pulled out a knife and handed it to the girl. “If a templar makes it so you can’t use magic, use this instead. Aim for the kidneys and shred them.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Isabela scoffed. “I’m no ‘ma’am’. Get going.” She patted the girl’s back, and watched with the others as she bolted for the docks. “Gentle thing. She needs to harden up or she won’t make it through the night.”

“None of them will if we don’t find Orsino. I don’t want to run straight into Meredith and her horde, so we’ll try this side passage. See if we can’t cut around as well.”

“We might need to find another way to get past the courtyard and not run straight into the templars either. If the side passage just takes us to where they were, the templars would have pushed further in by now,” Aveline pointed out. She frowned a moment. “I’ve been here a few times before. I thought there was… yes. I might know a way.”

“Then I’ll let you lead. You’re much scarier than I am, anyway. Maybe you’ll make a few templars cry and run away. Wouldn’t that be so much easier?”

Aveline shot her a look before turning about face and taking point.

Relm cracked a smile, enjoying the levity while she could. It would not last, she knew. The opportunities for smiles were likely going to dry up the moment she found Meredith. That thought alone made her smile fall.

 

* * *

 

Aveline led them through a complicated maze of side corridors and hallways. Though Relm was reasonably certain they’d gone in a circle once or twice, they eventually managed to cut through to the inner courtyard. The sight they came upon as they burst through a side door nearly brought Relm to her knees.

From the far right side of the courtyard, spells whizzed through the air, striking at the encroaching templars. From the left, the templar archers rained suppressing fire down on the mages, driving them further back into the building behind them. At the front of the advancing templars was Meredith, shouting them on as they reached the mages.

Just as Relm and her friends darted forward to cut off the templars, a bright burst of fire from the mages shot forth at Meredith and her retinue. It forced them back, though only briefly.

“Orsino!” Meredith screeched. “Your resistance is meaningless. You only delay the inevitable and prolong the suffering of the mages inside this Circle.”

“We’re not going to stand here and let you put us down like dogs!” Orsino cried, moving forward and standing between his charges and the templars. “We are blameless in what happened tonight, Meredith! But I’ll be damned if we don’t go out without a fight!”

Relm nudged Merrill. “Let’s get their attention.”

The elf nodded, and together, she and Hawke summoned a firestorm. With a combined shout of effort, they rained it down upon the templars. The lot of them shouted and scattered as fire crashed down on them. Varric and Sebastian let loose some arrows for good measure.

“Consider their attention gotten,” Fenris said as Meredith spun around.

“So you’ve come, Champion,” she said as Relm strode forward, staff in hand. “Here we are, at long last.”

“This is a dream come true for you, Meredith,” Relm shot back as she circled around, placing herself firmly in front of her. “You’ve been wanting to get rid of me for quite a while, haven’t you? On top of that, you get to murder innocent mages to your heart’s content. Oh, and Maker knows how many people in the city. Launching the rest of those planned raids of yours, I hear.”

“ _What_?” Orsino gaped for a moment before composing himself. “Please tell me you’re joking.” When Relm remained unmoved, he swung on Meredith. “You’re attacking the people of this city as well? Is the blood of my people not enough for you?”

“That mage was a heretic, and an attack of that scale wasn’t done alone. The mages here are only half of Kirkwall’s problem. The blatant heresy and sacrilege that goes on behind the walls of countless homes has infected this city. I will stamp it out for once and for all!” With a sneer she looked at Hawke. “I bear you no ill will, but you’ve brought this on yourself. You chose to share these mages’ fates.”

From behind Meredith, a man – Relm vaguely recognized him as the knight-captain – stepped forward. “Commander, I thought we intended to just arrest the Champion. And you _never_ said anything about attacking the people-”

“You will do as I command, Cullen.”

“No.”

Relm’s brow lifted in surprise. Meredith’s loyal right hand man, defying her? Tonight was full of surprises.

Cullen shook his head. “I defended you when Thrask whispered that you were going mad, but you’ve gone too far.”

“I will not allow insubordination!” Meredith bellowed as she unsheathed her sword and whipped it out, pointing it at her knight-captain. The flash of red lyrium cast a terrifying glow around her. It crackled along the blade. “We must stay true to our path!”

“Andraste’s dimpled buttcheeks,” Varric murmured in shock. “It was right under our nose this whole time.”

“You recognize it, don’t you? It’s lyrium, from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize.”

Relm stared at it uneasily. “Well, this explains a thing or two.” She looked over her shoulder. “First Enchanter, you really might want to get out of here. This makes things a tad more deadly, as hard as it is to believe that things could get worse. But that? That’s definitely going to make them worse.”

“What of you?” he said while motioning to his charges to flee. “You’re still going to fight her?”

“I have to. I’m the city’s Champion. I’m sworn to defend it and its people. That includes the mages and the heretics. And it mostly certainly includes defending them all from batshit insane knight-commanders.”

Meredith raised her sword before slowly, deliberately, pointing it at Hawke. “You’ve overstepped your bounds, mage. Your job is to uphold order and defend the city’s innocents. I understand why you might feel compelled to stand with these mages. But the heretics that infect this city deserve no such thing. Mages, at least, don’t have a choice in being what they are. But the heretics you claim to also want to defend chose to spit on the Chantry and its teachings. They do so willingly and even violently, as your _friend_ proved. They are monsters, every one of them, and I will hunt them down and exterminate them. Every last one.”

Relm could argue that she protected everyone in this city, good and bad. Everyone from the viscount down to the lowliest criminal in Darktown, and all in between. She could argue that her position didn’t discriminate. She could even argue how Meredith had no proof about these heretics and how unlawful these raids were.

But… when it came down to it, that wasn’t why. Relm was tired, she realized in that moment as she looked back at Meredith. Tired of being scared, tired of running. Tired of watching her words and watching her back. If this was going to be the end of things, she wasn’t going to go out like a coward. She’d done enough of that the past few years. She stared down Meredith and her red lyrium sword, and for once, she didn’t feel afraid. “I have many reasons for defending them, too. But what it boils down to is one very simple thing.” She lifted up her chin, almost daring Meredith to come for her. “I defend those so-called heretics, Meredith, because I’m _one of them_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Relm's long overdue dose of "fuck you".
> 
> There is something else I want to address, just to make things clear: I know Anders and his actions regarding the Chantry are divisive among the fandom, to say the least. While yes, I had him die in this fic, it's not a statement of my feelings regarding him. I don't hate him, not at all. So for any Anders lovers out there, please don't interpret this as an attack on him. It was a really hard scene to write for me personally.
> 
> With that piece said, I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. I'll see you on the flip side!


End file.
